Dying Fire I: The Three Fathers of ObiWan Kenobi
by Dalara
Summary: The title says it all. This is a post-TPM AU. Finished. Part 2 will follow.
1. Chapter 1

Dying Fire: The Three Fathers of Obi-Wan Kenobi 

This story takes place several months after TPM. 

That universe doesn't belong to me, and I'm making no money off of this. 

*********** **********

Running. The Jedi knight Obi-Wan Kenobi was running through the dense forest. Anakin was in danger – his Padawan was in grave danger, and Obi-Wan knew that every second was precious. He had to get to Anakin fast… soon. He HAD to. Needed to. He used all of his powers to run faster – all of his strength, the Force – everything. Yet his legs would carry him only so fast. His heart's pounding echoing loudly in his ears, he could hear nothing else through the thunderous flow of his own blood. Only one prevailing thought occupied his mind – save Anakin! 

Inhale… exhale… run… 

He ignored wet brunches, slapping at his face angrily; he ignored slippery mud under his feet, trying to trip him. He almost fell once, but his Jedi reflexes helped him keep his balance. Obstinate grass was clinging to his boots ravenously, slowing him down. He didn't care. His clothes were covered with huge dirty stains. He didn't care. Sweat covered his face, his whole body, ate away at his eyes, stinging them, blurring his vision. He ignored it too. 

He – must – run.

A branch caught on his sleeve, pulling him back sharply. He almost growled in irritation. He wouldn't stop. Not for anything in the universe, certainly, not because of a branch. Without a second thought he shed his warm brown cloak, leaving the branch its desired gain. Cold wind immediately enveloped him in a piercing embrace of harsh soggy air, but he paid it no heed. He ran. 

Only once in his life had he run like this – on that fateful, ominous, horrible day in Theed. That feverish running. Fuzzy thoughts. Aching body. Blurry vision. Life and death – death and life… **death**. He remembered the loud hum of cycling doors, echoing in his ears. Sizzling of a lightsaber, ripping through his Master's chest. White-hot burning pain, shared through the open bond. Opened for the battle – closed forever it had been. Torn to shreds by merciless death. And he had almost shared that death too, almost followed the lead to oblivion, pulled by the powerful tug of the bond that shouldn't have been open at such a moment. An agonized scream that must have been heard all the way to Coruscant resounded in his memory even now. At first, back then, he hadn't understood who had been screaming, but the burning of his tight throat had told him it had been he. 

He had been late then – and oh how he regretted it! Will he be late this time too? He couldn't bear the thought. He can't, he will not be late! He sped up, pushing his exhausted body to its limits. Limbs screamed in exertion. 

Plop! He felt water under his feet, slipped. Barely catching the nearest tree, breaking few nails, scratching the skin on his palms to blood, he managed to pull himself upright once again. His burning lungs screamed at him to stop running, but he would not. It all felt like a nightmare – extremely realistic and terrifying, chilling to the bone. But he knew it was no dream. And there was no way out. Every second could mean the difference between life and death for Anakin. He could not waste that second – as he could not waste that life. Stumbling, ignoring the pain in twisted ankle and his raw throat, Obi-Wan moved onward.

Thick, humid air of the forest filled his lungs like cotton wool, suffocating him, cutting out his breath. How long had he been running? It didn't matter. Time didn't exist any more, yet every second pounded in his ears like an alarm bell, along with his blood, reminding him that he had so little time…

Stop! A tree, a huge tree he almost ran into, stood on his way, blocking his path. Something in it made him uneasy. He looked it over, wondering what it was, momentarily forgetting his purpose, enthralled by the glaring wrongness of the forest giant – and he saw. The tree was half dead: dry boughs, branches without a single leaf were mixed with branches full of vital juices, full of life. He had traveled to many planets in his not too long life but he had never seen such a tree before. Half rotten, turned into dust – half bright with Living Force. 

He made a step forward, enchanted by the weird creation of nature. With a piercing scratch, dry boughs reached out to him, as though trying to get hold on him to never let him go. He recoiled startled, disgusted. Yes, there was something disgusting in this tree, in its rotten brunches that had long ago lost their vitality. What did they want from him? What were they doing in the world of living?

He made a step to the side, trying to circle the tree. Now all the brunches reached for him, eliciting a cacophony of sounds from the huge tree. Blindly they fumbled in the air, but he still could not get away from them. And finally they seized him, twisted around him, almost smothering. He struggled against them, eager to get free. 

An image of Anakin flashed in his mind. Go. He must go. He… must… save… Anakin. //Hold on, Padawan, I'm coming!// With a huge effort, defying the thick branches that held him, Obi-Wan drew out his lightsaber and ignited it. The blade glowed brightly in the dim light of the clouded sky. 

A tempest started over the forest. Lightnings sliced the darkened sky with knifes of intolerable, blinding light, raging. In the constantly changing light of the storm Obi-Wan's lightsaber seemed to change its colour from deep azure to bloody scarlet. It almost scared Obi-Wan, but he didn't have time to be scared. Not paying attention to the odd duality his 'saber seemed to obtain, Obi-Wan cut the glowing blade through the tree branches to free himself of their grip. With a cry that was almost human the branches fell off.

But the tree still didn't let go. It stood solidly on Obi-Wan's path, unyielding. Panting, Obi-Wan stood before the tree, lightsaber at the ready. He could almost feel the challenge from the tree hanging in the air between them. 

And then he swung his 'saber in a wide arc, bringing it down onto the damned tree. And again. And again. The tree swayed, then with a thunderous moan, rivaling the roar of the raging sky, it fell onto the ground, bringing down with it the trees around it. Earth shook under Obi-Wan's feet, and he almost lost his balance. But he needed to continue his frenzied running, he needed to get to Anakin. 

And continue he did.

Madness, this was madness. But he could not stop running. And he would not. Pushing himself to the limits, squeezing all the hidden energies out of his body, he moved on in a dead run.

Finally! He skidded to a screeching halt at the stony edge of a sheer drop, panting breathlessly. There, beneath him, was hanging his padawan, holding precariously onto the small stone, protruding from the otherwise smooth vertical wall.

"Anakin, hold on," Obi-Wan cried to the frightened boy, wondering at the hoarseness of his own voice. He saw two clear blue orbs gazing up at him with fear, hope and trust, mirroring his own twisted face.

"Master, help me!" Anakin's words were a muffled cry, laced with panic. 

Dropping onto his stomach, Obi-Wan reached his hand out to his padawan. For a tantalizing moment the boy was hesitant, afraid to let go of the stone his hands were clutching so hard his knuckles were white. Then resolve flared in his eyes and he shakily reached one hand towards his master. Obi-Wan grasped firmly the small hand that was bleeding from sharp stones that had cut into it. Some fine stones had etched themselves into Anakin's skin. 

Obi-Wan pulled. Hanging treacherously at the very edge of the drop that stretched down into the misty abyss, he aided himself with the Force. Anakin, with his hand now firmly grasped in his master's bigger one, let go of the stone he had been clinging to and was helping himself up with his free hand. 

Obi-Wan was slowly dragging Anakin up. A bit more… Close… He managed, he got here in time. He saved his padawan. Almost… Just a bit more… Anakin was almost over the edge already. The boy grasped low grass to help propel himself further, but with a tearing sound it let go. He threw away the useless bunch of grass and gripped the stony soil instead. They were making progress – slow but sure.

Anakin's foot slipped and he grasped Obi-Wan's hand harder in panic, cutting off the man's circulation. Obi-Wan gasped in alarm. For a frightening moment the boy's leg was hanging loosely over the bottomless drop, even the sight of which made a person sick. Sending calming waves of Force to the boy, Obi-Wan let reassurance glow in his eyes, keeping his own dread from leaking through to Anakin. //Don't let your fear rule you. I'm holding you.// He saw panic in the boy's eyes mold into resolve once more. 

Anakin pushed his upper body over the edge, lying on his stomach. Obi-Wan released his hand to help him further when he saw Anakin raise his head. The boy looked up, somewhere above Obi-Wan's head. Recognition flashed in the blue eyes. Obi-Wan heard the Force's shriek, warning him of peril. The Force was shouting at him to move somewhere to the side – anywhere – away – now!

But it was too late. 

With a growing sense of trepidation Obi-Wan felt a hand being put at the base of his neck, roughly pushing him forward. His heart missed a bit as he realized in incredible clarity that he was falling over the edge and into the sheer abyss of the endless dark mist. His hands roamed frantically to find something to hold onto – there should be something… anything… some leverage… a stone, maybe… there must be…

He saw the shock of his padawan, the boy's eyes wide with horror. He saw Anakin reach out to him with his hand. Their fingers brushed. For a split second of illogical hope Obi-Wan thought he could save himself from the dark fate that awaited him down there, in the inky blackness of immeasurable drop. But his hope sank and shattered as he saw glow of hope in Anakin's eyes being replaced by desperation. Nothing could save him now.

Clarity of the situation sliced through Obi-Wan's brain like a dagger and he struggled to at least see who had pushed him. But his vision suddenly swam out of focus. The only thing he could see clearly now were his padawan's huge eyes, filled with tears – eyes that pleaded not to leave him alone, yet knew that all the pleas were futile. He strained to see the unknown figure clearer. Hooded – familiar, something elusively familiar – it seemed to be close yet very far away – pushing away yet welcoming – dark and cold yet warm at the same time. Confusing, clouded, unfocused… The world went in slow motion, spinning around. Time was suspended. Droplets of crystalline clear moments trickled past him like rain through sunshine to disappear forever in the vastness of infinity. 

He could feel everything – emptiness of air beneath him, the Force around him. The Force, part of which he was going to become very soon. Much too soon. There was nothing to hold onto, not even the Force could help him. 

Then the time sped up.

He heard his padawan's desperate, piercing cry of denial. Felt the pressure of air around him as he fell to his death, a sudden gush of wind that drove into him with ferocity, suffocating him, choking his breath. Then the darkness closed in on him, cutting everything off.


	2. Chapter 2

No, **Athena**, that's definitely not all there is. On contrary, there's much more.

**Farore**, the reason for the title will come up later on. Pretty soon, actually.

Thank you, **Louiewolfie**. Well, yes, Obi-Wan and Anakin do seem to be close but that was… You better read for yourself.

A/N Since this story is an AU Jedi are allowed to love, marry and so on.

~ denote thoughts

// denote speaking through the Force

************ ***********

Slowly, cautiously Obi-Wan opened his eyes. Cold darkness surrounded him. Something was pressing on him from everywhere. ~Am I still alive?~ he wondered in a strangely detached manner. He was still vividly affected by his fall into the immeasurable depths of the dark abyss, was almost sure he was dead. Now he was not so sure, though. He tried to draw a breath and immediately coughed when water flowed into his nostrils. ~What the… ?!_~_ He was suddenly aware of murky water all around him and a pale quivering spot of light somewhere above. Alarmed, he pushed himself upwards, his muscles straining. 

Gasping, he broke the surface of water to hear children giggling somewhere nearby. Wiping the water out of his eyes, trying to get rid of the annoying blurriness, he looked at the shore – or rather the edge of the pond in the Temple's Garden.

Seeing confusion on his face, initiates, gathered there, giggled even louder. In the din of their young voices he heard a chuckle that could belong to only one person – Master Yoda. ~What the hell is going on?~ Obi-Wan wondered, unable to tie together his fall from the bottomless drop and waking at the bottom of the pond. 

"Sleeping in the pond Master Obi-Wan likes," Yoda commented in his usual gruff voice to the further delight of little initiates. Some of them were now laughing out loud, almost collapsing to the ground in fits of laughter. Apparently Obi-Wan's somewhat panicked and wet countenance was something really funny to observe. "Sleep in his quarters he does not," Yoda continued. But this comment was said in a more steady voice to show Obi-Wan that it was directed solely to him. Obi-Wan thought that he heard sadness in that voice, but perhaps, it was just his imagination. What he was sure he had heard, though, was a reproach.

He sighed. So what if he didn't get to sleep too often. After all, he had to think of how to better train his padawan. Not that the Council was of any help there. Sometimes Obi-Wan wondered if he was living in a desert. Data-pads seemed to be his only allies in the hard task he had put upon himself. Though with Anakin's rapid progress even they would soon prove to be useless. He knew he needed experience – experience he didn't have – and sometimes he wondered if he was up to the task at all. A ghost of failure haunted him, poisoning what little sleep he did manage to get.

And, of course, he continued to teach some classes – at any rate he couldn't refuse teaching them only because he had been knighted! And that, too, demanded time. 

Obi-Wan got out of the water onto the white polished marble plates that adorned the round pond. He sat there, shaking his head, trying to get the irritating water out of his ears and at the same time trying to recollect how had he managed to get into the pond. Surely he wasn't sleeping there like Yoda suggested. Obi-Wan snorted at the stupidity of the idea. But what was he doing at the bottom of the pond then?

Getting up, he felt something weight down on him hard. ~Ah, the cloak!~ Shredding the soaked cloak Obi-Wan scrutinized it skeptically. ~Just great! Now half the Temple would know I took a bath fully dressed. Considering the speed of rumors here I guess it won't be limited by only half of the Temple…~ Grumbling quietly something unintelligible, the knight squeezed his cloak, trying to get rid of as much water as he could then draped the still wet material over his shoulders.

Passing Yoda, who looked up at him reproachfully, Obi-Wan bowed to him, and his bow held just a slightest bit of mocking. Not looking back the young knight proceeded out into the corridor.

Still trying to figure out the mysterious occurrence Obi-Wan made his way to his – his and Anakin's – quarters, nodding automatically to those who greeted him, lost in thought. ~Lets see what I have been doing before that. Morning classes, then training with Anakin. He's improving with that kata, by the way. Then what?~ He frowned, trying to recall the afternoon events. ~Ah, yes, I had a talk with Bant. Some meaningless conversation about… about Qui-Gon – and Anakin. I was upset with her and went to meditate in the Gardens…~ 

Rounding a corner he almost knocked down another knight. Apologizing mechanically, Obi-Wan continued on his way, never noticing a critical headshake he got from the knight.

~So, I was meditating and then it started. Did I fall asleep, then? Not exactly like me.~ He smiled despite himself. ~I haven't done that since… since that time on Atolon when we trekked the mountains all day, and in the evening Qui-Gon insisted we meditate. He said later that I had fallen asleep two minutes into meditation.~ A wistful smile appeared on Obi-Wan's face, smoothing little wrinkles he had acquired in the past months but never bothered to acknowledge. Anakin – had he been there – would have recognized this smile immediately as the constant companion of Obi-Wan's thoughts about good times with his late Master.

But the smile soon faded to give place to a half-frown that had taken residence on his youthful face ever since that fateful day. Frowning even more he recalled the details of his visi… No, it wasn't – couldn't be – a vision. It was just a dream, a… whatever. ~If I don't believe in it, it won't come real,~ he thought and cringed at how childishly it sounded. But as someone said 'if you pretend good enough you can convince anyone, even yourself', and he would pretend, pretend that he didn't see it. And he would deny the tremor of apprehension that settled deep in his heart.

********* **********

Two Jedi Masters were perched cozily in a secluded corner in one of the halls of the Jedi Temple. This vantage point not only allowed them to convene without being heard but also to observe the boiling life around them staying unnoticed.

"He doesn't look very happy," Master Adi Gallia commented, following knight Kenobi's retreating back with a piercing gaze of her azure eyes. "I wonder what has happened," she added, noting the trail of water Obi-Wan's cloths left on the honey-stone polished floor of the hall.

"Why would he be happy?" Master Mace Windu asked almost peevishly, folding his arms over his chest. He, too, followed the young knight with his gaze, though his onyx eyes held neither sympathy, nor friendliness the eyes of the beautiful Master next to him possessed. 

"Do you still blame him for Qui-Gon's death?"

Mace shrugged and looked away. The admission on his face was more evident than any words could make it.

"I can't believe it: the two senior members of the Jedi Council act like little children! Like you like Yoda."

"I can't help it. But what about Yoda?"

"Haven't you noticed how he treats Obi-Wan as of late?"

"Well, he does seem to be a bit too hard on him," Mace admitted. "Perhaps, he's offended that Obi-Wan didn't listen to him. If you remember, Yoda was against Skywalker's training from the very beginning…"

"We don't know that he was against his training, we know he didn't want Obi-Wan to be the one to train him," Adi interjected, ignoring the glare Mace threw her way. 

"But Kenobi have always been one of his favourites," Windu continued. "It'll pass."

Adi huffed in irritation. "And you think yourself to be Yoda's close friend? Are you men all so blind? He tries to make Kenobi understand that taking Skywalker was a mistake. But Obi-Wan is just as stubborn as Yoda is. Trust me, they'll make us all a joyous life."

"I think you're going too far with this. What has happened with Qui-Gon…" for a second an expression of deep hearty pain, expression of a man who had lost his best friend, glanced through the stone façade of the Jedi Master, but the next moment it was gone like grains of sand, blown away by angry wind. "It has affected us all, of course, but it doesn't mean the Council has turned into a bunch of marasmic old beings."

"No, it didn't turn us into anything but it showed that we are blind to what is going on behind these walls," she made a sweeping gesture with her elegant hand. 

For a moment Mace studied his companion's face as though seeking answers for the questions he hadn't asked. "Your fear is totally baseless," he finally said, not bothering to conceal his criticism. "Jedi are attuned to the Force and…"

"And the darkness is rising," she interrupted, more irritably than was necessary. "And we have missed Sith's reappearance. What if another Sith comes up?"

~She doesn't know about Yoda's misgivings," Mace thought, looking at her blazing eyes. ~She thinks – as everyone else – that the Sith on Naboo was one and only. What would she say if she knew?~

"What shall we do if another Sith comes?" Adi's shrill soprano cut through his thoughts like a knife. "Shall we pay the price losing our best like it happened to Qui-Gon? Or would the knights lose their belief in the Order and leave as it happened with Dooku? How are we going to fight the darkness, Master Windu?"

"That is what the Chosen One is for. If the prophecy is true, he is the one who will bring balance to the Force," Mace stated and was endowed with a scornful glare from Adi.

"The Chosen One is just a boy. He might take any path…"

"And we will wait and see what path he chooses," Mace finished. For a split second Adi looked like an enraged feline about to scratch Mace's eyes out, but with an effort she calmed herself down, at least on the outside. Mace had no doubt she was still furious just under that façade. She closed her eyes as if to quell the fire in them. When she opened them again they were two pools of serenity that was just slightly tinted with pity and disdain.

"So you are content to step aside and watch passively so that you could put all the blame on Kenobi should the boy choose the wrong path." Her voice was suddenly tired, but the conviction behind her words was stinging.

Not knowing what to put up against her accusations Mace resorted to diversion. "The Council session is about to start. Let's go."

********* **********

The familiar sight of the doors to his quarters made Obi-Wan dive out of his fight with his own misgivings and into the real world. Punching in the code he stepped inside to find the quarters empty. Not surprising, considering that Anakin should be in his class.

Stepping over the threshold he felt it again – the usual feeling of bittersweet groundless hope that gripped his heart with warmth – hope to find [i]_him_[/i] sitting there or standing in the doorframe – and piercing pain of loss as the hope shattered, taking a piece of his heart each time. And it happened each time he crossed this threshold to be carried away into the past, if only for a fleeting moment. With time the sharpness of the feeling faded, but it still hurt way too much. He had even thought about changing quarters but eventually decided against it. There was no escaping memories, and he might as well leave himself something to anchor his memories onto – a souvenir. 

~Some souvenir!~ he thought ironically, making his way to his Master's – no, his own room now. 

Changing quickly, Obi-Wan heard the door swish open, and a moment later a bright Force-signature of no one other than Anakin Skywalker bounced into the main room. Obi-Wan shook his head in amusement. Had he, too, been this energetic at ten? Probably not…

Banishing all the unpleasant memories, as well as pleasant, that tried to creep into his mind, Obi-Wan made his way out of his room to find Anakin chewing something enthusiastically in the kitchen.

"Hello, Anakin," he said, picking a glass to pour himself some juice.

"Hmmm msst," was the muffled reply he got from the boy.

"Huh?" Obi-Wan pictured a surprised expression on his face.

"I mean, hello, Master," the Padawan replied, having finally conquered the piece of birada cake Master Pillana had brought them yesterday evening. 

"So, how were your classes today?" Obi-Wan asked, sitting down at the table.

"Boring, as usual." Was it a whine he heard in Anakin's voice?

"You don't look all that bored," Obi-Wan quipped, sipping at his juice.

Sometimes Anakin's moods were changing like clouds in summer sky, he observed.

Anakin's face brightened, and he reached into his pocket. A second later something small, blue and goggle-eyed stared at Obi-Wan from Anakin's open palm. The boy held his possession like a rare insect, pride colouring his every feature. Upon closer inspection the little almost round thing turned out to be a droid. 

"What does it do?" Obi-Wan asked, studying the droid with interest.

"It runs," Anakin stated with pride. "And it sings."

"Really?" Obi-Wan was skeptical of the last statement. About a month into Anakin's training he had discovered that the boy had very little idea of music and singing. Or rather of what people regarded as such.

"Yes!" With that the Padawan pushed a small button, hidden somewhere on the blue case of the droid. The shrill cacophony that followed made Obi-Wan's hair stand on end. Hastily Anakin pushed the button again, and the blissful silence ensued. 

"That was…" Obi-Wan stooped in mid-sentence, seeing the fear – that bone-deep fear Anakin had brought from his slavery – show on the boy's face.

"Um, sorry," Anakin mumbled, trying to avoid looking at his Master.

A sudden smile broke on Obi-Wan's face. "I hope you weren't going to put it under anyone's bed to turn it on at night?" he asked playfully.

Surprised, Anakin looked up and had grace to blush. 

Obi-Wan got up from his chair and made his way to the common room, where he stopped, deciding on what to do next. Anakin followed him.

"So, do I have to read complaints about your behaviour from Masters this time?" the Master asked, nodding towards a comm. unit that resided on a small table in the corner. Obi-Wan spoke jokingly, but Anakin discerned the ringing of real concern, underlying his voice. The Padawan had become really skillful in the last few months in discerning the slight changes in his Master's voice, hinting at the real feelings the older Jedi had. Though sometimes – in times of bitter disappointment and self-loathing, which quickly turned onto anyone around him, – Anakin doubted he hadn't imagined all those feelings to persuade himself his Master [i]_could_[/i] have feelings, because at times it seemed as though Obi-Wan Kenobi had no feelings at all. 

As though to mock Obi-Wan's words a green light flashed on the comm. unit, signaling an unread message. With a barely audible sigh the Master read the message. 

~I wonder what does the Council want this time?~ he wondered. Aloud he said only. "The Council wants to see us, Padawan."

**

********* *********


	3. Chapter 3

Glad you enjoy, **Farore**.

Well, 'more' is here, **Athena** :-)

************* ************

A few hours later Obi-Wan found himself staring out the viewport of a small passenger transport at the bright colourful sphere that was Coruscant. Lines of buildings, smeared by the clouds – white and pristine in some places – it was almost hard to believe something pristine could exist on this planet at all – and in some places tinted with bluish black or gray, burning with disturbing red on the east where the sun was chasing away the night. The streaks of liquid red, dancing on the clouds covering the gigantic city fell in resonance with Obi-Wan's uneasiness, which stirred to life deep within him. 

To quell the sudden anxiety the Knight ran over the Council meeting once again.

 _The Council had wanted to see them about the matter that was the last thing Obi-Wan would have thought about – his family. _

_"We received a message from your family," Master Windu had said in a tone that suggested it was Obi-Wan's fault such a thing had occurred._

_Obi-Wan couldn't help but raise a skeptically surprised eyebrow. Out of the corner of his eye he had noticed Master Gallia cover her mouth quickly. _

_"The message," Mace Windu had continued in a deliberately louder voice. "Informs us that your mother is dying."_

Only a person very familiar with Obi-Wan's body language could have noticed the subtle shift in his posture, the sudden rigidity, uncharacteristical for him. Anakin, for his part, wasn't yet apt at reading such subtle nuances of his Master's poses and thus was lead to believe the grievous information, poured over them in an almost callous way, had no effect on Obi-Wan whatsoever.

_"Your family requests your presence. You are granted permission to go and take your Padawan with you. Your transport leaves in two hours."_

_Sensing the end of the briefing, whishing to get away from the scrutinizing gazes of the Council to digest the startling information. Another death – though this time of a person he could barely remember – his own mother. He had suddenly felt sick. Why was it so that he knew so little of his mother that he couldn't even envision her face? How had he come to that? But he couldn't let his emotions show, not before the Council, not before anyone. But especially not before the Council – he, the young Master of the Chosen One, couldn't afford the luxury of showing his weakness before the Council. He must be perfect. A lopsided ironical smile had tugged at his lips, never reaching his eyes. ~Perfect!~ Swiftly he had turned and walked out of the round room he had once regarded as a sacred place – no more. _

"May the Force be with you," he had heard almost as an afterthought coming from Master Windu.

_Bant had been waiting for them in the docking bay. _ He smiled; he had never learned what had she wanted with them. _ Words had died on her lips unspoken as she saw his eyes._

_"What is wrong?" she had asked, her silver eyes full of worry and readiness to hear anything he had to say, readiness to be there for him. He had told her, and she had offered her support, though not much needed – yet._

_She was always there for him – like a relative, a sister. _ 

Another smile, this one full of mirth for a change, blossomed on his face as he remembered an episode just after he had introduced Anakin and Bant to each other.
    
     _"She's my sister," Obi-Wan had told his Padawan._
    
    _Ani's blue eyes, blazing with energy, had immediately gone wide with wonder. "Wow, wizard!" he had finally exclaimed._
    
    _Obi-Wan had looked at him in confusion. Then, realizing what his Anakin must have thought, he had slapped himself on the forehead._
    
    _"No, it's not like that at all," he had said, trying, unsuccessfully, to contain a huge grin that threatened to spread on his face when he imagined what his AND Bant's parents must look like in Anakin's eyes. "She's my soul-sister. Have you ever heard about soul-bonds?"_
    
    _Anakin had nodded, trying to remember what he was taught in the Force-bonds' class. Then his face had abruptly brightened. "And Master Qui-Gon was your father just like…" He had trailed off seeing something dark and haunted rise in the blue-green depth of Obi-Wan's eyes._
    
    _They had never talked about it again, but sometimes Obi-Wan caught Anakin's scrutinizing gaze and knew from the shreds of thoughts the bond brought to him that the Padawan wondered if THEY would ever have anything like what Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had shared. And sometimes – to Obi-Wan's surprise and worry – those thoughts bore taints of fear. _

********* **********

The spacious corridor of the Senate building was nothing but luxurious, draped in red and black – to the liking of the Supreme Chancellor. Tall windows gave way to sunlight, and the mischievous rays played on red drapes, making them glow like fire, and avoided black as though scared. 

A woman was walking the corridor in a swift but graceful pace of a purposeful feline. At the door to the Chancellor's office she paused, spotting a tall shining-clean mirror on the wall.

She looked in the mirror and studied her own reflection thoroughly, as though a stranger, assessing herself critically: beautiful, though not with a classical beauty. Shoulder-length dark-blond hair lying in a curly mass over the red jacket; hematite eyes sparkling with contained energy.

~Here stands the chancellor's aide Nais Kobierta," she thought sarcastically with just a slightest touch of sadness. "The former... no, better not go there. Funny that the Chancellor would hang a mirror here. Does he really love his own reflection so much – not that he loves anyone else. A newly found Narcissus,~ she snorted. ~Or maybe it's one of his toys, designed to watch everything and everyone?~

Sometimes she wondered if Palpatine had paranoia but she soon discovered that, in fact, he loved to be in control, to have absolute power over everyone. That thirst for control was only complimented with his talents – he was an excellent strategist – and he was taking pleasure in planning the scheme of things, then watching other beings follow his scheme, thinking they were acting on their own volition.

The thought of being watched made her uncomfortable, and she quickly stepped away from the mirror. The door to the office opened, revealing a spacious room, decorated – as the corridor – in red and black gamma. A huge window on the far wall opened a breathtaking view at the Coruscant's panorama: tall buildings with windows burning liquid yellow in the sun; rows of traffic lined the sky with their regulated ornament; and bottomless darkness of levels upon levels upon levels down to the surface where sun never reached. 

The room's two occupants turned their heads to the new arrival. The Chancellor was sitting at his desk dressed in a formal dark blue gown with intricate embroidery. Sun, caught in his graying hair, dyed them silver. Standing before him was a much younger man. His oily eyes ran over the woman's figure speculatively until they met her dark ones. The fire in his eyes immediately died to give place to servile deference, flavoured with a relish of fear.

"Do you understand your task?" Palpatine's shrill, rasping but somehow sugary voice had a well-concealed note of impatience to it.

"Yes, My Lord." The man before the Chancellor bowed and following the dismissive gesture of Palpatine's hand left the room.

The Chancellor's light blue eyes turned to regard Nais. As usual, she felt shiver run up her spine and coldness settle in the pit of her stomach under the gaze of those eyes – cold eyes that held unimaginable powers. Oh, she knew what power he possessed…

"Kenobi and Skywalker are leaving the Temple," Palpatine finally said, enjoying the effect his look seemed to have on his servant. "I've sent Madis to follow them." 

Nais wanted to ask how he knew but then thought better of it. Shaking off her discomfort she walked over to the table. "And where are they going?" she asked, sitting down onto the tabletop easily. The Chancellor wouldn't have allowed such familiarity to anyone else, but Nais had special privileges.

"Kenobi's homeplanet. I take it his mother is dying." The tone of his voice suggested he was talking about weather change on another planet.

Nais leaned forward, twisting a prized pen in her slender fingers absentmindedly. "Why are you so interested in those two anyway?" she asked lazily.

"Not in the two of them." Palpatine reached his hand to stroke her hair that hung before him seductively, gleaming with honey-gold in the bright mid-day sun. "I only need Skywalker. Kenobi is needless to me."

"Why don't you take the boy then? Why letting him stay with the Jedi?"

A look of disgust crossed his features. "He's too young yet. A child with no discipline and patience. Faugh! Let him torment the Jedi for a while, and when he's not that… lively he'll come to me. It is unlikely there's going to be any trouble with that. Besides, his knowledge about his future enemies would give him an upper-hand."

"You've planned it all out, haven't you?" she purred, leaning even closer to him.

*********** ***********

The Temple garden breathed with serenity, sounds of nature creating a pleasant background for meditation. And the small Master with drooping ears seemed to enjoy the vibrant yet calm presence of the Force here. Soundlessly the tall dark-skinned Jedi Master approached his counterpart. Pausing for a moment – hesitant to interrupt or, perhaps, just content to observe for a moment – he lowered himself onto the grass. His companion didn't seem to notice him at first, and silence ensured for a long second only to be broken by a gruff voice of the elder Jedi. 

"Heard from Dooku have you, Master Mace?"

"Not since the last time we talked. He still believes there is a Sith in the Senate. But it's impossible, isn't it? If the Sith were there we would have noticed it."

"Noticed the appearance of the first Sith we have not." Yoda said, opening his eyes to look at Mace pointedly. "Disguise the Dark Side its servants well it does."

"It does, of course, but the Senate... It's too hard to believe." Windu shook his head firmly.

"Perhaps, true it is." Yoda said after a small pause.

"Why do you think so?" Mace was careful to let just a little bit of his suspicion to leak into his voice, but enough for another to notice.

"Master Sifo-Dyas..."

"What about him? He's dead for more than a year already."

"So he is. Talk to me he wanted. A few hints he dropped, though nothing specific. Sith never mentioned he but something about the Dark Side he said. A meeting we were to have..."

"And?" It wasn't in Mace's nature to hurry Yoda, but this time he could hardly contain his impatience.

Yoda's ears drooped even more as though something was weighting down on them. "Killed he was before talk we could."

"You mean someone knew about your meeting…" Words were eluding Mace as he struggled to take in the startling revelation, but the chain of thought had already started to unravel in his mind.

"Be more alert we must."

*********** **********

A black hooded figure watched the docking bay of the Temple intently, careful to stay in deep shadow to avoid being noticed. The Jedi on the landing platform paid the mysterious figure no attention as it was concealed in the darkness of the Force just as well as shadows of the walls concealed it from accident gazes. The figure watched the three Jedi part, and the Mon Calamarian woman step away as the other two – Master and Padawan – boarded the awaiting ship. Two eyes, gleaming in the shadows with an inner glow, followed the transport until it turned into a dot to mix with myriads of another dots on the dome-shaped carpet of Coruscant's sky.

"Well, well, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You've chosen the wrong apprentice, but don't worry, I'll relieve you of the burden," the figure murmured before turning to blend with darkness. 

************ ***********


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you, **Athena**, hope you'll like this one as well.

And more is right here, Farore. Yes, I thought it interesting to bring some other characters into the scene and not only Obi-Wan, Anakin and a couple of others.

************ ***********

"There is a reception tonight. Get ready," Palpatine ordered, and Nais heard the door to her private boudoir swish close behind him. Not so private, in fact.

A reception. Slowly she rose from the low ruby-red couch, almost loath to leave its silky comfort, and walked over to a tall wardrobe, turning on a fan as she passed it and letting the cool air wash over her, basking her bare skin in gentle waves. Opening the tall mirror-doors of the wardrobe with both her hands she stood there stock-still like a graceful marble statue, inspecting her possessions. Her hematite eyes swept the clothes critically, with almost boredom of a spoilt woman of fashion. Light as feathers her fingers ran through the fabric. Finally she chose three items and threw them onto the chair. Shifting the mirrors so that they focused at the center of the boudoir she stood between them and scrutinized herself. 

Slender hips, high breasts, porcelain skin, white and delicate, almost translucent... and what's that? His bite! Damn! She rubbed at the spot, knowing it won't help, then turned her attention to the garments on the chair.

White flowing silk with pearls, embroidered into it in an elaborate design. She lifted it to her lips and breathed in a light aroma of gentle flowers. So light, so pristine... too pristine for a courtesan on a meeting of politicians. She looked up above the soft silky material and her eyes met those of her reflection in the mirror.

~Could I ever guess – back then when I was that little girl who could watch fashion shows for hours on end – could I guess that 'Chancellor's aide' and 'courtesan to a Sith Lord' are synonyms?~

She wasn't sure what the word 'Sith' meant exactly, and for her it implied him, Palpatine – Sidious. Yes, he had told her his 'shadow' name. And not because he trusted her - there was no such word in his vocabulary - but because he knew - as did she - that she would never be able to escape him or harm him. She was a strong woman - most of all in spirit - but not strong enough to stand against Sidious. And the Dark Lord seemed to take exponentially more pleasure in her subjection, in subduing her. 

A rebellious nature, once in a while she made a daring and desperate attempt to escape her gilded cage – only to have her chains press harder on her. He called her his 'wild cat' and tormented her, and played with her like with a captured prey – sometimes like a big sated and that's why good-natured dog, sometimes like a hungry disheveled wolf with glowing eyes. 

Such passion was unexpected in a man of his age, but he time and again proved the old saying that looks deceive. The body of a man who had – inevitably – started to age held the spirit of great power and hellish intensity. She was his possession, his plaything to toy with to amuse himself. And she was powerless to change anything. But she kept trying and would do so until her last breath. She would try to destroy him.

Destroy him! It sounded so sweet! Absently her fingers found a marble statuette on a low table and clasped it tightly. How much she wanted to hurt him! To bring him pain! Her fingers squeezed the statuette tighter until her knuckles became white. To spit into his face. To throw this statuette at him, to see his heard smash with squelching sound... 

Just throw it!

Shrill ringing of broken glass startled her out of her bloodthirsty haze. What had she done? A beautiful crystal vase was lying on the crimson velvet carpet in sparkling pieces, like tears she didn't have. A vase HE had given her not as a gift – there are no gifts for things. He had simply given it to her, had put it into this room. She smiled almost triumphally, and there wasn't a wee bit of regret in her smile. Droids would clean the mess...

A small victory. Meaningless, but victory nevertheless. 

As her eyes fell onto the chair she remembered what she was supposed to be doing. With a sigh she lifted the white dress from the floor and laid it aside onto the couch. 

Red one? Throwing it over herself she contemplated the long dress – flowing material, leather insets. It would accentuate all the right places... But red? She swept the room with her gaze. Would red haunt her everywhere? If it was his favourite colour it didn't mean she had to like it too. And it certainly didn't mean she had to wear it. With a resolute wave of her hand the red dress was lying next to the white one.

That left the green dress. Dark-green velvet, austere, but exquisite. Yes, this one.

************** *************

The ship – a small dot in the vastness of hyperspace – was making its way to Tar Adnom, Obi-Wan's homeplanet. The panorama outside the viewport was neither multifarious nor of any interest: only streaks of light – billions of stars turned into lines with the power of speed. And still the young Knight kept his vigil, sitting in a chair at the viewport. His eyes – the blue-gray pools of troubled thoughts – never left an unseen spot somewhere in the non-existent infinity. The lights were down, symbolizing the night and letting the Padawan to take his rest and the Master to wander in a fairyland of thoughts. 

Anakin was sound asleep on one of the sleep-couches, snoring quietly. He shifted slightly and murmured something incoherent into the cool air of the room. Disturbed, Obi-Wan looked at him, but the boy seemed to be far in a dreamland. Not trusting his eyes in the dark room the Knight resorted instead to the Force. Gingerly he reached into the bond – a tiny spot in his mind, shining with life and energetic vibrancy Anakin radiated. Delving into the sensation, he reached deeper, then sighed. 

Just a dream. Not even a nightmare. Slowly extricating himself from the mental contact, Obi-Wan returned to his thoughts. But another notion had already made its way into his mind, demanding attention. What if he contacted his mother? Tar Adnom was in two days' journey from Coruscant. What if something happened to her before they arrive? Would he never see her again? Or was it more like never see her at all – for he could barely remember her face.

The thought opened the door for anxiety to creep in. She wasn't Force-sensitive, as far as he knew, but he had heard that a contact between close relatives was possible even if only one of them could access the power of the Force. And what relative is closer than a mother?

Determined, he closed his eyes and centered himself. As always the Force was there to cradle him in its warm embrace, to stroke him and nurture him, offering consolation should he need it. He dived deep into the Force, knowing what he wanted to find. Time matters not in the Force but time had passed and – nothing. There was no trace of Tanarine Nobbs as though she didn't exist at all. Frustration swept him in a torrent of emotion almost palpable in the fine shimmering web of the Force. Why couldn't he sense her? Maybe it was all a lie, and relatives couldn't be contacted?

He reached for his brother next – and immediately found Owen, his presence dim and blurry in the distance, but there, in his mind. Why couldn't he find their mother then? He reached for his father to confirm the theory and…

What was that? 

A freezing stab of fear pierced his heart, freezing his insides. Something dark materialized in the Force, reached for him – curious – only to vanish abruptly as a shrill shout sliced through his meditation. 

"Master?"

Anakin?!

"Anakin? What's wrong?" 

The Padawan's face was ghostly white in the uneven light of stars, twisted with worry as he stood before Obi-Wan. "Master, you were talking and… shivering. Are you alright?"

Only now Obi-Wan noticed the short tremors that still rocked his body. Taking a deep breath he struggled to calm himself. "I'm fine, Padawan." He could only hope his voice wasn't too shaky.  "Why are you awake?"

"I was… um… talking to Master Qui-Gon." Obi-Wan frowned – sometimes Anakin insisted he could talk to Qui-Gon in his dreams or meditations. But it wasn't possible. The boy wasn't connected to the deceased Master in any way, and if Obi-Wan couldn't see Qui-Gon or hear him why would Anakin? Why would Qui-Gon visit Anakin and leave Obi-Wan alone? 

But deep in his heart, in a place he tried to conceal even from himself, Obi-Wan knew – or thought he knew – [i]_why_[/i]. Perhaps, that knowledge had been born on that dreadful Council meeting or, maybe, it had always been there, originating from the first rejection… 

Anakin threw him apologetical look as if saying 'I'm sorry you can't talk to him too."

"He was telling me something… I… I forgot. And then he said I must wake up. He said you needed me." The boy looked uncertain, almost afraid. 

"No, Anakin, everything's all right. It was just a dream you saw…"

"It wasn't a dream," Anakin protested. "Master Qui-Gon [i]_was_[/i] there."

Obi-Wan sighed. "Anakin, Qui-Gon is dead." Oh, how hard it was to say those words! The words that cut his heart like thousand knives. "You better go back to sleep." Sensing a pout on Anakin's face, Obi-Wan smiled faintly. He guided the boy to the sleeping-couch. "Sleep well, Padawan."

********** **********

The huge hall blazed with artificial lights as the reception stretched well into the night. People and aliens alike, dressed in parade outfits of all colours and styles – sometimes simple but elegant and sometimes intricate and variegated – were gathered in small groups, engaged in small talks or full-blown political debates. Servants sailed between them soundlessly, serving snacks and drinks. Here and there lights, sneaking around the vault of the ceiling, highlighted a gathering of people – some listening intently, some gesticulating in passionate heat of a debate.

As a god of feast Palpatine moved through the crowd effortlessly, dropping a word or two here and there. He spotted two beautiful women, standing separately, and approached to greet them.

"Master Gallia, Master Billaba," he said, lowering his head in a polite bow. "I am delighted to see you here."

"The pleasure is ours, Chancellor," Master Billaba replied guardedly, her hazel eyes giving away nothing of her feelings. 

In his thoughts Palpatine paused to admire her – strong and beautiful – the very embodiment of a Woman. Enigmatic. Her being a Jedi only added to the image of almost perfection.

"Forgive me my curiosity but where is Master Kenobi? I am used to seeing him on such occasions." ~How are you going to explain the absence of you top PR-darling?~ He thought with a mental sneer.

"I'm afraid he had to leave the planet, Chancellor," Master Gallia replied not yet coldly, but ice shone in her azure eyes, saying 'not your business'.

For a moment Palpatine contemplated her, then with another bow he excused himself.

*********** **********

Nais stood on the balcony that encircled the hall, overlooking the crowd below. The official part of the reception was long since over, and she preferred to hide herself in the shade of the balcony's drapes, watching, staying unseen. Soft footsteps alerted her to another's presence, and a moment later a hand lowered to rest on her shoulder.

"What are you watching?" said the familiar voice – the voice she once loved, the voice she now hated.

"A man over there." She pointed down in the direction of the one who had caught her attention. "He's been standing there for half an hour already. And he doesn't seem to be a politician." ~Not only do you use my body – you use my perceptions, too,~ she thought tiredly, feeling bitterness raise in her throat.

"Ah, that! Wonderful, just wonderful." Palpatine seemed to be pleased. "That, Honey, is Count Dooku – a former Jedi and a very useful man, if you know how to use him properly."

The smile on his face could make any heart freeze. 

~Sometimes he doesn't need his cloak and hood to look like a Sith Lord,~ Nais thought.

************* ***********


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you, **Athena**, **Farore**. Glad I made you hate Palpatine :-)

*********** ***********

When the reception was over Count Dooku was one of the last to leave the Senate building – almost on the break of the dawn. His lanky figure, wrapped up in the midnight blue brocade expensive cloak, left the already almost deserted halls in a brusque pace of a man with purpose. His personal air-car was waiting for him outside, ready to take him home – to the hiding place, he thought with dismay. But he would not hide much longer. Not like this. He could sense it.

A slightly sleepy male voice greeted him when he got into the car. Dooku returned the greeting, closed the door and immediately felt the air-car take off from the landing platform. The light inside the car was off, not letting Dooku see his companion, but the Count didn't need it – he knew every feature of his associate's face almost as good as his own.

"How was your fishing today?" The voice had managed to shake off all the sleepiness and now sounded all business with a thinly veiled sarcasm.

Dooku grimaced. "Not too fortunate, in fact." He shifted in a more comfortable position before continuing. "Tabil Organa was pretty animated today…"

"Do you think he is the one we are looking for?" the voice asked.

"Perhaps. Maybe he's decided to leave subtlety for a while, thinking we would never suspect such open play from him."

They paused, listening to the quiet rambling of the engine as the car brought them through the shining web of Coruscant's upper-levels.

"Palpatine has overdone himself today," Dooku finally said, watching the ocean of blazing lights outside. "I admire this man – to be able to use the tragedy of his homeplanet to clamp down on the Senate… It takes much. Finally this herd has a decent leader."

"What about others under suspicion?"

"Ashii-Tan had left for his planet yesterday, as you know. Kadal Turunis seemed to be more concerned with his pregnant wife than with anything else…"

"Seemed?" There was no mistaking the taunt in the voice of the shadowed man. But Dooku didn't get furious at this, as one would expect.

"He  _was_ ."

"Don't you think it a bit unfitting of a Sith Lord to be in such a position? Maybe…"

"We can't exclude him from the list only because of this small episode."

"If you don't constrict the circle you are never going to find out who he is, you know."

"Yes, but…" something metallic clinked in Dooku's pocket, and the two immediately went still and rigid. Carefully Dooku reached into his pocket and a moment later produced a small data-chip. With a fast gesture he turned the light on to take a better look at his discovery.

A small but bright lamp illuminated the two strained faces. Dooku's companion – who turned out to be a man in his late thirties with dirty-blond tousled hair, slanting gray eyes and bushy eyebrows – leaned forward, inspecting the chip. Then he lifted his eyes to look at Dooku quizzically. The Count just shrugged, answering the unspoken question. 

"Any ideas where you could get this?" the man pointed at the chip that was glowing with matte glow in the light of the lamp.

"Strange. I should have noticed someone putting it into my pocket." The quick glance from his companion told Dooku that the man had picked on his uncertainty. 

For a long second brown eyes stared into gray ones.

"Perhaps he – whoever he is – has decided to make the first step," the man finally uttered, nodding in the direction of the chip that was lying peacefully on Dooku's long-fingered palm.

A faint, almost non-existent, jolt told them that the air car had arrived to its destination. Closing his fingers around the metal ball Dooku was the first to climb out of the car, his companion close on his heels. Inside the shadowed building they were met by a company of men and women who seemed completely unremarkable from the first glance, but were, in fact, a very skilled and well-organized group, though small in numbers.

Giving orders as he went Count Dooku proceeded into a secluded room, followed by a few members of his party – others had disappeared along the way to carry out his orders. When the door had been locked Dooku looked over his most trusted companions – two men and one woman, including the one who accompanied him in his travel from the Senate building – then placed the data-chip into the projector. 

A holographic figure that appeared in the dim room was wrapped up in a long black cloak from head to toe, making it impossible to discern whether it was a man or a woman. For a moment the hologram stood still, as thought examining those before it. One of the men shifted uncomfortably – the look of invisible eyes was heavy like a rock, the presence of the hologram seemed to electrify the very air in the almost empty room. 

"Count Dooku," the hologram finally said – its voice hoarse, neither male nor female, somewhat hissing, vestured with noise like with goose pimples. Icy fingers of fear grabbed the innards of those present, making them all – even Dooku – wish they were somewhere else. "I have been watching your activity lately. You proved to be worthy. I want you to meet my envoy tomorrow at eleventh hour in seventh warehouse of TarBech. Come alone." The figure disappeared, leaving the tension still palpable in the room.

************* ************

Next day had come and passed quickly in everyday routine. When the night started to fall upon the planet-city, only to be quickly replaced by the artificial day, Count Dooku was ready to meet the mysterious envoy. His yesterday's companion flew him to the appointed place and left to wait nearby, prepared to come to the rescue of his boss should the situation get out of hand. 

Walking soundlessly – he was a Jedi Master and hadn't lost his skills only because he had left the Order – Dooku entered the shaded building, his senses keen, tuned with the Force, ready to alert him of any danger. He couldn't sense anyone yet and it made him wonder. ~Could the message be only a test? Or, worse, a joke?~ he thought, frowning, but was quick to discard the possibility. His people weren't able to clear the message of the noise and special effects to make the voice recognizable – and it was no small feat to leave his people helpless.

But the warehouse was empty – or at least it was what his senses, sharpened by his training in the Jedi arts, told him. All the more startling was the voice when it came from pitch-darkness. 

"Stop there," it ordered harshly. 

Dooku stopped but stretched out with the Force instead. The result surprised him – nothing. Baffled, Dooku doubled his efforts, but still his senses found no presence in the Force as though he was alone in the building. 

With a clinking sound that echoes loudly under the high ceiling a large lamp came to life, throwing into the darkness of the warehouse an uncertain bar of light, which immediately got lost in the vastness of the room. But at least it allowed Dooku to see where his contact was – a big progress, taking into consideration that he couldn't sense him in the Force. The contact was still no more than a black silhouette against the dark hole of the room. 

"My Master wants you to show your skill and power," the figure stated in a distinguishably male voice. 

Dooku didn't reply, waiting for the envoy to continue. He did just that.

"You are to find three bounty-hunters: Kaimano Katoro, Jango Fett and Nushi-Noshi." 

Dooku waited some more but when he realized the envoy had said all he wanted, he asked himself. "When I find them – what next? How do I contact you?" He thought he heard a snort from the man, but, perhaps, it was only his imagination.

"You will be contacted in three days."

As soon as the echo of his words dissipated in the air the lamp switched off as abruptly as it had lit up, basking the two figures in heavy oppressive darkness. Turning around, Dooku made his way to the thin faint bar of light that symbolized the door he had come inside through. 

Unbeknownst to him a pair of cold blue eyes watched him leave from a shadowy alcove high above. 

*********** ***********

The closer they got to the planet, the more foreboding pressed down on Obi-Wan. Even Anakin – who as any adept of the Living Force, as opposed to Unifying Force, didn't usually pay much attention to vague senses of the future, preferring the moment's excitement instead – seemed to be worried, trying to stay as close to Obi-Wan as possible without actually clinging to him.

It was unusual to go to a planet without making a thorough research about it. But it wasn't a mission and no research was needed, though Tar Adnom, despite being Obi-Wan's homeplanet, was as unfamiliar to him as any other planet he visited for the first time in his life. Not the first time, he corrected himself, but his memories about this place were so disorganized and formless that it could as well be the first time. Still the absence of necessity to read tons of information about the planet threw Obi-Wan off-balance, and he sometimes wished he had taken some information from the Archives – at least for entertaining himself if nothing else. 

The transport landed, and Anakin made face at the pilot's obvious lack of skill or care for his passengers. Smiling affectionately down at Anakin – pushing all his worries to the back of his mind for the time being – Obi-Wan strolled to the lowering ramp. The Padawan followed, mumbling something about if he were a pilot. 

Once on the ground Obi-Wan started to search the variegated mob of the spaceport for anyone meeting them. A redheaded stocky man dived out of the crowd and approached them slowly, as if unsure. Obi-Wan examined the approaching man and with a leap of his heart realized that it was his brother, Owen. 

Owen seemed to finally recognize Obi-Wan as well – a smile spread across his round tanned healthy face, and he rushed forward. Suddenly Obi-Wan found himself clutched in a bear hug, and there was nothing left for him but to hug Owen back.

"Hello, brother." Owen finally deigned to release the slightly crumpled Jedi and was now staring at him with two joyous blue eyes.

"Hello, Owen." Obi-Wan couldn't help but smile back, seeing his brother's cheerful face.

Owen looked him over once again and only now noticed Anakin who was not – quite – hiding behind his Master.

"Don't tell me you have married long ago, and this is your son," Owen said, eyeing Anakin from head to toe.

"Don't talk nonsense. This is Anakin, my Padawan," Obi-Wan made a jokingly offended face.

"Your what?" Owen seemed to be genuinely puzzled by the title

"An apprentice, you, scarecrow," Obi-Wan said kindly and suddenly felt warmth – something long forgotten – wash over his body and soul. He remembered Owen and himself as kids playing during his short visit home long ago – it seemed like ages. He remembered… Suddenly it was so much, too much for him. He was afraid he might break into tears. 

"Ah, okay. Let's go, I'll take you home," Owen said, starting to weave his way through the crowd, paying little if any attention to the jogs he was getting.

In a surge of tenderness – so uncharacteristical for him in the last few months – Obi-Wan put his arm around Anakin's shoulder and hugged him closer, feeling surprise and something warm rise in their bond, filling them both with affection. 

An old and rather shabby-looking speeder that Owen used as a transport produced a frown on Anakin's face as he saw this wonder of engineering. 

//Master, are you sure it won't fall apart on us?// Anakin asked through the bond they shared, and Obi-Wan was thankful that he hadn't said it aloud. The Padawan tended to blurt things like this out not caring whose feelings he might hurt.

//I don't think so. Now get in.// Obi-Wan was careful to not let his smile become too wide. 

Still eyeing the speeder suspiciously Anakin got inside, followed quickly by his master. Owen fired the engine and flew the speeder out of the overcrowded spaceport's parking zone and onto the street. They flew in silence until Obi-Wan dared to ask a question he secretly dreaded asking. 

"How's mom?"

Owen, who had been smiling slightly, apparently, glad to see his brother again after almost two decades of not seeing him, immediately became somber. "We'll talk when we are there." 

*********** ***********

The trip to Owen's home took them about an hour: the Nobbs were the farmers and lived outside the town. The speeder didn't fly too fast – and Obi-Wan could barely suppress a small smile at Anakin's definition of it as a 'Hutt's crawl' – perhaps, it simply couldn't gain better speed or, maybe, such a mild pace was to Owen's taste, though Obi-Wan doubted it – his brother seemed to be intent on getting home as soon as possible. 

Obi-Wan, on contrary, couldn't decide whether he wanted to get there as fast as possible or to apprehensively postpone the fateful meeting. Fateful? He took a moment to wonder at his choice of words. Why on earth did he call it fateful? As a mean of distraction he searched for the answers within himself and immediately regretted it as the answers sprang at him, making his heart beat in a maddened rhythm. He was afraid… he didn't even want to think what he was afraid of.

To somehow quell the pounding of his heart – no amount of Jedi techniques seemed to be useful this time, failing him when he needed them most – Obi-Wan tried to lose himself in watching the landscape. The countryside was, in fact, a sight to behold. As soon as the speeder left the bristling with activity streets of the spaceport's town, which had developed through centuries around the spaceport, the cobbled streets of the town gave place to wide forests, here and there lined with sparkling ribbons of crystal-clear rivers. Groups of trees dressed in carmine reds and golden yellows reminded about the autumn claiming its rights. 

However, the beauty of the sight was lost on the distraught Jedi. The voice of his heart drowned out the birds singing in the sky. Obi-Wan stomped on his foreboding hard, resorting to the idea that had been drilled into him for more than a decade: 'live in the moment'. But his apprehension was still with him like a dull throbbing ache deep inside his being, devouring his strength, waiting to sprout. 

The speeder pulled to a low white stone house, drowning in the garden that was surrounded by a low fence – more for decorative purposes than any real mean of protection. Getting out of the speeder the three followed a meandering gravel path up to the house. On a large open porch an old man was waiting for them, leaning heavily upon the white balustrade. Coming closer Obi-Wan realized that the man wasn't really old, but his hair was practically gray, and his eyes were dull. Doleful creases at his mouth aged him greatly. It was Obi-Wan's father – Parel Nobbs, and the young Jedi promptly searched his eyes for answers he didn't want to hear. But the old man avoided an eye contact. Slowly he made an inviting gesture and went into the house himself, his shoulders slumped, his walk shuffling.

Obi-Wan saw Owen's worried look follow the retreating figure of their father. Noticing his brother watching him, Owen shrugged a bit and said in a way of explanation – as though any such explanation was needed, "This has been hard on him. He still loves her very much."

Without as much as another word they proceeded into a rather large room, furnished with chairs and a sofa. Parel was already there, sitting on the sofa, his face buried in his hands. Presentiment and desperation threatened to overwhelm Obi-Wan, and he fought to keep them at bay, raising as many mental shields as he could: blocking the pain inside, blocking his feelings from the world, from Anakin. He noticed an expression of sheer panic contort Anakin's face for a moment when the boy felt the bond being blocked as well – Obi-Wan had never shut him out like this before. But the knight couldn't pour this entire emotional storm – hurricane – he knew was coming onto his Padawan's head. And so he blocked the bond too. 

"How is she?" Obi-Wan asked his father. The words sounded alien – and useless, colourless.

For a long moment the blue-gray weary eyes stared into troubled cobalt ones. Time froze on the shrill note of hesitation, then it broke back into reality. "I'm sorry, son, but…" Unable to look into those intense eyes, focused on him, Parel lowered his gaze. 

For a moment, Obi-Wan simply stood frozen, stiff, looking at his father as though he couldn't understand his words. The man before him was bent over as though a weight of grief was lying on his shoulders as tangible as the walls of this room. Then slowly, painfully realization sank in, and Obi-Wan felt a surge of grief well up in him, gripping his heart with icy clutch of loss, his throat constricting. He looked at his father, his eyes shining pleadingly, begging to take his words back, to say everything was all right – and knew he would never hear such words. The pain so strong it was almost physical twisted his heart, and he fought to keep tears at bay, fought… but what was there to fight for?

"I'm sorry," Parel repeated huskily, but Obi-Wan didn't hear him.

"Where… is… she?" he managed to ask through gritted teeth and barely recognized his own voice. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Anakin stiffen, looking at him virtually in terror, but ignored it.

"Come, I will show you." The father stood up and, not looking at any of his sons, went out of the room. Obi-Wan followed him in ominous silence, his moves suddenly lacking his usual natural grace. 

Still in silence they entered a small dimly lit room, the amber glow of little glow-lamp filling the room with supernatural radiance. The air was full with cloying exotic aromas of different oils and heavy aura of death, glancing through them. There, on a dais made of a table and beautifully decorated fabrics, was lying she – Tanarine Nobbs. Obi-Wan stopped on the threshold as though afraid to come in, as though if he stayed on the outside it would only be a distant picture never coming into reality. He clutched the doorframe and just stared at his dead mother. There were no words to say.

A minute passed. Time flowed by. Obi-Wan stared.

She was beautiful – even in death – her golden hair spread around her like halo of an angel, her face peaceful with eerie serenity, lips slightly parted in everlasting sigh. She was almost ethereal, and Obi-Wan felt a gaping hole open up in his heart, sucking all his thoughts in, leaving his mind mute. All these years when he hadn't as much as spared a minute to remember her she was with him, somewhere in a small corner of his mind. He hadn't even realized she had been there until she was gone. On trembling legs he finally approached her and stretched out his hand to gently touch her face. Softly his fingertips came in contact with her skin, and cold shot up his hand. His weakened knees suddenly gave way and he crumbled to the floor next to her pedestal. 

Parel left the room quietly, letting Obi-Wan spend at least some time alone with his mother – for the last time.

For a long spell he just sat there looking at her, taking in every feature, memorizing her to keep her image with him forever. Tenderly, carefully he reached out his hand to stroke the silky mass of her hair. The tightness of his chest was unbearable, clutching him in the gripe of anguish. Tears blurred his vision until he could no longer see anything. He wanted to howl like a wounded animal, but nothing came forth from his parted lips, his harsh breathing the only sound in the room. He wanted to embrace her and never let go, to hold her like he had held Qui-Gon – but he was afraid to break her fragile beauty. She was so thin, almost translucent, so small in the abundance of fabrics that surrounded her. 

Hot wave of merciless shame coloured his cheeks red when he thought how he had forgotten about her… about each of them, but most of all her. How could he? Oh, how he wished now that he could return to the past to try and change it. But past was in the past – came merciless words of memory.

In desperation, without any hope he reached for her through the Force and felt… nothing. Just the black void of death, cold and callous. Tanarine was one with the Force – like the Jedi would say. She was there – somewhere – she couldn't have disappeared. But what if she had?

Abruptly an old pain, which had just started to get covered with a thin veil of time, surged up from the depth of his being, breaking the shields he had built, erupting into his consciousness like molten lava, mixing with the new pain, doubling it. Blinded by the agony that tore his soul into the ragged shreds, Obi-Wan clutched the fabrics blindly and screamed and yelled in rage and grief. Two people – the dearest, closest people – were now gone, and only an echo of their presences filled his memory, and grinding pain filled his bleeding heart.

********** **********

Anakin followed his Master and stood watching him from the open door after Parel had left. At first his heart went out to Obi-Wan and his poor mother. She was not young, but attractive nonetheless – not as beautiful as his own mother, of course, but still… She didn't deserve to die now; Obi-Wan didn't deserve his mother to die now. 

But then… then something dark and ugly raised its head from a little secluded corner of his mind. That little corner he was so afraid of. It whispered that it was he who needed such attention, not the dead woman. She was dead already, why care for her? This tenderness should be his!

He had never seen Obi-Wan show such feelings before, and it made his heart bleed with jealousy that it wasn't he who received all that love. 

Something snapped in him, and he felt pity for Obi-Wan, but not a compassionate pity – no, his emotion was akin to that of a person who still has what another had just lost. He remembered his own mother and was enormously glad she was alive. Far away but alive. Straightening, he felt himself superior to his Master.  _He_ , Anakin, would never let his mother die. He would return and save her, and she would come with him to live on Coruscant. And he would be the greatest Jedi of all – the Chancellor said so, and the Chancellor was to be trusted. He, Anakin, was the Chosen One and the strongest one, too. He would never be weak.

A gentle hand lowered onto his shoulder, and he jumped in surprise. The jealousy inside him faded away quickly, and he felt crimson blush creep onto his face. What was he thinking? He turned his head to see a middle-aged woman he hadn't seen before. She nudged him tenderly away from the door.

"He needs to stay alone for a while," she said softly and kindly – like no one except his mother ever talked to him. "Let him be."

Hanging his head in shame, Anakin followed the woman away, vowing to himself that he would do anything to help his Obi-Wan through this.

*********** **********


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you, **Athena**. And yes, indeed, poor Obi-Wan. Guess you're going to say that a lot during this fic *makes an evil face*

Thanks, **Farore**. Who wouldn't want to hug Obi? :D I think you will read my suggestion on how Dooku turned – sooner or later.

************ ***********

"Are you sure it is right to help this Sith or whoever he is? He uses us plainly." Gray splinted eyes followed Dooku as he moved around the spacious living room.

"Of course he uses us! But this way we are closer to finding out his identity, Brimar. See if I can play a double game against him. Besides, it is best to be as close to your enemy as possible." Dooku sat down into a large throne-like armchair that made him suddenly look royal and stared at his mate significantly.

"I believe the saying was different," Brimar quipped frowning, which brought his already bushy brows into a thick line. Not that he was so concerned with the phrasing – he could care less, in fact – but this whole situation was not to his liking and he didn't hesitate to point that out with both words and not-so-subtle hints.

"You're taking it all too close to heart. Relax. I wasn't the last person in the Order and I haven't lost my powers leaving it. If Kenobi was able to beat his apprentice I definitely can beat the Master." At this moment Dooku looked very much like his bust in the Jedi Temple Archives – a noble stature, a sure penetrating gaze. But the moment passed, Dooku glanced at his chrono. "It's almost time to call Fett. Wonder why did the Sith choose him – he's a parasite like all the bounty hunters. And the Sith is apparently going to make a bunch of cloned bounty hunters." Dooku's lips quivered in disgust. "Why increase their number? By the way, have you found any information on this Kamino system?"

"Not much. The planet is situated pretty far from Coruscant or any trade roots. It is rumored to have one of the best cloners' facilities. That's about it. Have you found anything?"

"I asked one of my former colleagues to look in the Archives, but there is no mention of it there."

"And here I thought the Jedi Archives were the fullest information database existing." Brimar's voice wasn't quite scornful, but Dooku frowned at the contemptuous notes underlying it.

"It is," he countered almost protectively. "Someone must have erased the information about this system. I wonder who could have done it and why?"

"Let the Jedi find it out on their own," Brimar suggested.

Dooku snorted, "Those fools won't probably notice the absence at all. But enough of this, I need to call Fett now. Hmm, I need a name to tell him…" the Count stared at the wall as though expecting a name to pop up there. 

"Why don't you call yourself say… Tyrannus?" The twinkling in Brimar's eyes made the older man almost smile.

"What? Are you implying I'm a tyrant?" Dooku made a mockingly savage face.

"No, sir!" Brimar barked, and they both laughed. "No, really," the younger man continued when the laughter ceased. "A very nice name. Why not?"

"Indeed, why not?" 

************ ***********

Twist.

Run.

Duck.

Fire.

Stop. Perk up. Listen.

Run again.

Beep.

"What now?" Freezing the holo-picture in the room with a specially programmed gesture, Jango turned to the door just in time to see a shining silver protocol droid hobble in.

"I am sorry, Jango, but there is a call for you." The droid paused as though switching the programs, then said in a gruffer voice, "Nasty guy. Serious business, it seems."

The man smiled slightly at this. He had programmed this into the droid himself to add at least a bit of humanity to the protocol droid – even he, the unbending bounty hunter sometimes needed a little warmth, an illusion of it if nothing more.

Sighing, Jango walked to the door and took a towel from the wall. Wiping his forehead he hung the towel around his neck, not bothering to somehow cover his bare torso that was glistening with sweat from the exercises. At the door he paused to turn off the holo-projection, basking the room in darkness.

The 'nasty guy' was waiting for him; the holographic projection, reduced to a little over than half a meter, didn't spoil the powerful visage of the stranger. Jango's hands itched – the sure sign of a worthy opponent should they get into a fight. The man was dressed in a long black cloak that obscured everything, but his hood was down, revealing the noble face with keen dark eyes that seemed to look around with a lazy curiosity – but Jango would not be tricked with feigned indolence. 

The bounty hunter stepped into the range of the holo-projector, and for a moment the two men stood silently as though measuring each other. 

~Serious guy, apparently, with a serious business. Authoritative. Confident. Knows what power is. A politician? No, something else here.~ "I am Jango Fett," the bounty hunter finally said, satisfied with his observations. 

"I am Tyrannus," the man replied in a deep cultured voice of a capital inhabitant. 

~What kind of a name is that?~ Jango mentally snorted. ~Oh, well, you're using an alias. I'll play that game, Coruscantian.~

"I want to offer you a job." He stared at Jango pointedly, and the bounty hunter was hard pressed not to squirm under his stare – but he didn't. 

"Killin' someone, eh?" he asked with a faked nonchalance.

"No." ~Hm, surprise here.~ "You are to be a host for cloning."

~What?!~ Jango shifted uncomfortably, though his face showed no emotions. He imagined a dozen of clones – his clones – around him, and a cold stab of fear shot through his stomach. But money… It would be just the right time to get some money. Speaking of which…

"What do I get for this?"

"Much money."

"How much?" ~What kind of game is he playing?~

Jango didn't miss the slight shift in Tyrannus' posture and wondered if the man was nervous. If he was his face showed no sign of it – a stone mask. ~Who might he be? A Jedi? No, no, no, what would a Jedi want with me? No, he's not. Or…?~

"You will discuss the exact terms with the cloners." 

~Nice!~ Jango tried hard not to let his sarcasm show on his face. "So, they will give me as much money as we shall agree on?"

"Money or whatever you might want… within reasonable limits and within their power, of course."

~Now this is interesting.~ Some vague thought whizzed in his head, and though he couldn't catch it just yet he suddenly had a strong feeling he needed to accept the offer. Slightly suspicious about this feeling, he voiced his acceptance. 

"Very well. Go to a planet called Kamino." The hologram cracked in the air before disappearing.

Jango scratched the back of his head in confusion. He had had weird orders before, but this one was something special… Anyway what was this thought he had? He looked around, pretending to not seeking the thought, waiting for it to come on its own. And it did come. 

~Cloners – they make clones – they will do clones of me,~ he shuddered but quickly pulled  himself together. ~I can demand what I want – within reasonable limits,~ he smiled slightly, and if someone was there they would have been fairly surprised to see this smile – partly sly and partly gentle it was incredibly out of place on his battle-hardened face. ~I think one more clone is within 'reasonable limits'.~ He looked around the empty room, and a feverish desire to have someone near, someone precious made his fists clench. He was a bounty hunter – marrying wasn't for him. But now… Having someone who would be able to keep up with him, who would be just like him. It was incredibly simple and too good to be real.

He only needed to let them use him.

"What am I getting myself into?" he wondered, and the ringing silence was his only reply.

************** *************

A few days had passed since Obi-Wan and Anakin's arrival. The funeral – a beautiful though immensely sad ceremony – was now in the past, and the ashes of Tanarine Nobbs were buried in the ground so that, according to local legend, they could sprout as a wonderful flower later. By this time Obi-Wan managed to subdue his grief, to hide it under layers over layers of shielding and was once again, from Anakin's perspective, the stone Master of his.

Today was the good-bye ceremony where members of family and all the neighbours ate, drank, and drank a bit more in memory of beloved wife, mother and friend. 

Of course, Anakin wasn't allowed to drink alcohol – he, as well as other children, could choose from a wide variety of juices and beverages, set out on numerous tables with food throughout the garden. But the Padawan had to drink one goblet of special ceremonial wine that made his head spin pleasantly and feel 'funny' as he had told Obi-Wan. 

The guests were wandering the garden freely, mostly talking among themselves discussing local news, vegetables and cereals prices and whatever else the Philistines could find to discuss. Children had arranged some kind of a game and even managed to involve Anakin, who wasn't all that friendly at first, into it. Soon, however, he was one of the leaders, giving commands and actually attempting to use the Force from time to time. Smiling slightly at his Padawan's newfound joviality, Obi-Wan continued to study his surroundings lazily.

Soon enough he spotted a woman who was standing timidly aside. She looked a bit confused or, maybe, embarrassed. Her appearance was rather plain - a common farmer's wife in her forties. What made him curious were the wary yet somewhat inviting glances she threw his way every now and then. She didn't seem to be flirting though.

"Who is that woman over there?" Obi-Wan asked his brother. Owen stopped eating and looked in the direction Obi-Wan nodded at.

"Ah, that's Sagie," Owen waved dismissively. "She's Kaden's new wife. You do remember that Kaden is our neighbour, don't you? Please, don't disgrace us. He's an important figure here." Throwing one more look in Sagie's direction, Owen looked at Obi-Wan with a grin that looked almost out of place on his rough and tanned face. "Looks like she's as new here as you are. Why don't you make her a company?"

"Perhaps I will," Obi-Wan said, picking up a glass from the nearest table and making his way towards Sagie. He ignored Owen's deliberately loud snort.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked the woman, who suddenly blushed as though caught eavesdropping.

"Yes, thank you." She obviously tried to sound aristocratic, but all her efforts failed under the weight of her common upbringing. Even if he were not a Jedi Obi-Wan could have seen that she was as open and plain as a bench. And judging from what he knew and had seen of such people on his missions the kind of behaviour she demonstrated right now was highly uncommon for her. What made her stand rigidly, rolling the edge of her collar between her fingers nervously? Was she attempting to flirt or…?

"Are you Obi-Wan Kenobi?" she asked uncertainly when the silence stretched. Obi-Wan got an impression she was ready to bolt any moment.

"Yes, I am. How can I help you?" he replied in his best soothing voice. The voice that, unbeknownst to him, made women's hearts tremble like a leaf on the wind.

"I am Sagie Kaden. I have something for you. It's umm... Come with me, please..." She started to walk, checking if Obi-Wan was following her. Intrigued, Obi-Wan followed. 

A few minutes later they arrived to the Kadens' residence. The large garden was now silent, safe for a dog's barking somewhere nearby. Obi-Wan and Sagie moved quietly through the garden, the hushed rustle of gravel marking their every step. Silence became inauspicious.

Suddenly with a short menacing roar a heavy black bulk sprang at them from the bushes. A dog! Only Obi-Wan's Jedi reflexes saved him from being buried under the huge animal as he twisted out of the harm's way. Sagie gave out a startled cry.

The dog landed gracefully onto its feet and turned quickly to regard the two people who had refused to fall its prey. Big yellow clever eyes were burning with almost humane anger. Prime animal strength was radiating off the lean muscled figure of the dog, its short black hair shining in the sun rays.

"It's Aadno," Sagie said quietly to Obi-Wan. "He hates everyone. Only his owner - my husband - can come close to him without a risk of being torn into scraps." Obi-Wan heard a good deal of fear in her trembling voice.

As usual in such situations, Obi-Wan wished Qui-Gon were there. His former master could have easily calmed the dog down. With the connection the great Qui-Gon Jinn had to the Living Force he would have had no trouble linking to the dog - as he had never had with any other creation of nature. He had tried to teach his apprentice, but could something like that be taught? Wasn't it a gift that came from birth? Obi-Wan knew he had been a disappointment for his master in this particular area. He could almost hear Qui-Gon's deep voice telling him to concentrate, to feel the Force around him… But he knew it was only his memory, Qui-Gon would never come to guide him. Never again.

Shaking himself forcefully out of his painful thoughts, Obi-Wan summoned the Force. Focusing on the dog's yellow eyes, he sent calming waves of Force into the dog's mind. He felt the world around him change, become brighter with the colours the Living Force produced; cool breath of soothing wind against his cheek, the tender warmth of sun – all his senses became sharper, more clear. At such moments he understood how Qui-Gon had always seen the world and felt pity for himself for he was unable to see it this way. Sometimes his deep connection to the Unifying Force, shutting the Living Force out, seemed more like a curse to him.

The dog blinked, looking into the deep eyes of the human. No threat. Calm. Friends. Muscles relaxing. Aadno sat, then laid down onto the low grass still looking into the overpowering blue-green eyes. Something inexplicably sad flowed in the air, and Aadno gave out a high-pitched whine as though sensing the human's woe. 

Sagie stared at both the dog and her companion in awe, apparently not knowing who to fear more – the animal she thought to be the most wild thing she ever met or the man who managed to submit this animal with sheer power of his gaze.

Obi-Wan looked up as though waking from a deep slumber. The dog was looking at him with something close to reverence. Sagie took a small step back when Obi-Wan turned to her. Clearly she was even less comfortable around him now than before. What kept her from ordering him to go away?

Without a word they continued on their way to the house. In silence they reached the wide stone steps that let to the main entrance of the big building. Tall glass doors opened smoothly, letting the two people inside. The large hall that opened up before them was a mixture of different pieces of art, presenting a horrible lack of any order or taste.

Obi-Wan, having gotten one of the best educations in the Republic – the Jedi always gave best to their students – and being a person of high aesthetical taste, cringed at the sight. Catching his disapproving glance, Sagie shrugged as though to say: "It's not my fault he made all this mess here."

She quickly led her guest to one of the rooms that stretched through the building in a set. She shut the door behind her back, leaving Obi-Wan to wonder what all this was about. Glancing around nervously Sagie made a few steps across the room and stopped in front of a large wooden carved sideboard. Whispering something under her nose the woman started to rummage through it. Ob-Wan stood in the center of the room, watching her with a straight face. He suddenly had a gnawing feeling this was something important. 

"Ah, here it is!" Sagie triumphally held up a piece of paper. "This is for you." She handed him what turned out to be a sealed letter. It was addressed to him.

A warm sensation arose in the tips of his fingers. He opened the letter carefully and unwrapped a list with handwritten message. The handwriting was small and round, almost copybook. It read:

 _My dear son,_

_I know I will not see you again, not in this life. I know I am dying, though Parel and the doctor try to hide it from me. I see it in their eyes. I wish I could see you once again, just once. To see how grown up you are. _

_There is also something I need to tell you. I have been keeping it in secret for many years, fearing. I have been fearing not for myself, though I don't know what could have happened to me if my secret has come out. I have been fearing for Parel and Owen. But most of all for you. _

_When you visited home for the last time you were too young to know the truth. Or maybe you weren't. Perhaps the Jedi could have protected you. But I was afraid that even they would not be able to save you. _

_But now you need to learn the truth. Gods help me! I don't know if it would become your strength or your weakness, if it will make you stronger or destroy you. I can only hope that the Force those Jedi Masters were talking about would protect you._

_Please, my son, come to Nartala, my homeplanet. Go to the Temple of Nardiss, ask them to perform a ritual of Kanitola. Show them this letter. There I will be able to tell you the truth that had been lying as a stone on my heart for so many years._

_With love,_

_your mother._

Slowly Obi-Wan raised his head to look at Sagie.

"Where did you get this from?" he asked in a suddenly hoarse voice.

"Tanarine gave it to me while I tended to her during her illness. She told me to give it only to you and not ever mention it to anyone else. Is it important?"

"I need to go," Obi-Wan told her, turning on his heels. "Thank you," he added around his shoulder and was gone in a blur.

************ ************


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you, **Jedi Padawan**. 

Glad you enjoy, **Athena**.

**Darth Farore**? *shudders* Sorry, can't reveal the secret just yet.

*********** **********

Forest. He was in a dense forest – so familiar and yet so alien. But this time he wasn't running. This time he was standing still. Obi-Wan looked around, studying the environment. Everything was just the same, yet… There was no sense of urgency now. There was no need to run. Anakin was fine – so far. 

Close humid air, filled with exotic aromas of the tropical forest, assailed his senses, and he breathed it in, let it fill his chest until it was almost burning. Then he exhaled slowly. Everything was peaceful, safe and calm. 

Too calm. The stillness was tight and rigid, waiting. Waiting for what?

As though in search for an answer he looked up and stood motionless in awe. Clear azure sky was a crystal pool of serenity shining down at him in a cascade of magical light. Tranquility poured onto him, and he felt his breathing slow, his muscles relax… until a little detail caught his attention: there was no sun. 

Where was it? He shifted his eyes in search of the run-away luminary and saw what the woods were waiting for… thick raven-black storm clouds bubbling on the skyline like slush. The tempest was approaching. It was still far away, but it had already consumed the sun and covered the forest on the horizon with deep inauspicious shadow. 

Disturbed by the troubling sight Obi-Wan lowered his gaze and looked at the jungle around him. Large palmed leaves of tropical trees rustled quietly on the wind. The wind? There wasn't any wind just moments ago! Balmy current of air hit him in the face, flooded his nostrils with almost liquid warmth, then left, caressing his cheek in gentle good-bye. 

The wind was picking up. Leaves swayed in alarm. He could feel their anxiety, their fright of what was to come. Their fear of darkness on the horizon.

On an impulse he lowered his eyes to the ground and saw a tiny, rank with grass but still distinguishable path lying at his feet. Fine multicolored gravel marked its course. The path snaked away into the thick underbrush, welcoming. 

But he did not want to follow it. With an almost impish resolve Obi-Wan stepped away from the path and… he breathed sharply when the path followed him, curving to lay under his feet. Why couldn't he leave this path? A tendril of foreboding shifted in his heart, and he fought the sudden desire to simply run away.

Memory rose. _I will do what I must._ Hurt. Betrayal. Forgiveness – but was it true? Love. Death. Alone. Pain. Duty. Anakin.

The path was chosen for him, he could only accept it. Leaving all doubts Obi-Wan made a step forward… 

…and the path dissolved into darkness.

Warily the knight opened his eyes, checking if he wasn't at the bottom of a pond yet again. His mind, still clouded from the dream, was ready to accept the possibility however ridiculous it might be. The inspection revealed a scarcely lit starship's room with only one glow rod shining in a corner. Nestled on a cot in a far corner of the room was sleeping Anakin who clutched two warm blankets to him so desperately as though he was freezing. Obi-Wan shook his head. The Padawan still tended to get cold on the starships – not that they had traveled all that much in the few months of his apprenticeship. With a gentle smile Obi-Wan crossed the room and draped another blanket over the boy, who stirred and mumbled something incoherent.

Returning to his own cot Obi-Wan settled to think as sleep eluded him. His dream was disturbing but what did it mean? Again and again the knight tried in vain to comprehend the meaning of the troubling dream, but all he got was a massive headache. 

Imperceptibly his thoughts shifted to Anakin, to their relationship – tangled and unbalanced as it was. From his own experience with Qui-Gon Obi-Wan knew how much a padawan needed to be told and shown that he is loved. But could he do it for this boy – his padawan – a boy that was meant to become his replacement? The question still remained open, tormenting him with its insolubility.

*********** ***********

"I have news," Brimar said casually as he entered a room and plopped down onto a chair.

"Good news or bad news?" Dooku asked looking at the far wall.

"You decide." Brimar sustained an effective pause then leaned forward, brushing a stray lock of dirty-blond hair he didn't care to comb, and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "Tabil Organa is found dead. The Alderaanians' state is buzzing like an agitated hive."

"So what?" The count was definitely not in the mood.

"You can strike him off the list."

The older man shrugged and stared at the wall yet again. Brimar huffed in irritation at his boss, companion and friend's lack of interest. 

"You know what our democracy is?" Dooku suddenly asked without rhyme or reason.

Brimar raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Our so called democracy is a power of money, elected for money for the sake of money. And nothing more." Bitter notes laced his voice, still… there was something more to it. "If I…" he broke off. "Never mind," he added after a short pause.

Brimar squinted and looked at the man he knew and trusted. Something was different about him, and the younger man wasn't sure he liked the difference. 

*********** ***********

Soft, silky fur was so tender to the touch. Sitting cozily on the floor in her – Palpatine's – apartments, in a special enclosure, Nais stroked a rabbit's white fur with long slender fingers. The small animal rubbed against her hand softly. Red shining beads of its eyes looked up at her with naïve trust of an unsophisticated nature's creation. The woman cuddled the small rabbit and smiled down gently in a well of warmth that rose in her heart – something she thought forgotten from time to time but something that was, in truth, lurking deep in her soul, away from coarsening and depraving harshness of reality's light that sometimes was closer to darkness. The rabbit stuck its nose into the heavy dark-blond mass of her hair and sneezed when delicate hair tickled the tip of its snout. She laughed softly, happily and pulled the unruly strands away from the pet.

«You, little naughty boy," Nais cooed affectionately. This wasn't something she did often and definitely not something she would do in public or for _him_ . She frowned, but a light tapping of the white ball of fur on her knees brought smile back to her lips and coloured her dark eyes with sun flashes of laughter. 

She was stroking the long soft ear when something pushed her to look up, and her eyes met two glowing with hunger yellow orbs. She froze as an icy whisper of fear settled at the back of her neck. A huge dog – more resembling a wolf than a tamed hound – was standing before her, studying her with unblinking cinder eyes, burning eyes of a greedy hunter. Muscles ripped under the terrible creature's russet skin, tight like a stretched spring, ready to jump into action. No sound escaped the slightly parted brown lips that were just barely covering long yellow razor-sharp fangs. The strained aggressive silence was worse than any barking or roar.

The rabbit in the woman's hands shrunk into a tight ball of quivering nerves, trying to back away from the visage of death. 

Cold chuckling startled Nais, and she looked around in near panic. 

"Get out of there," Palpatine's voice ordered calmly, indifferently.

Warily Nais stood up from her chair still holding the shivering white bundle wrapped in her arms.

"Leave the rabbit." _Wipe them out. All of them._ She remembered how he had said that, and now his command sounded just the same. Obediently she put the innocent creature down as tears sprang to her eyes. "Now get out of there."

Feeling suddenly empty, mortified, Nais made her way out on unbending legs. Once the door closed behind her she clung to the observation glass, immediately finding the rabbit on the floor – so small, helpless, miserable. She gave out a startled cry as the dog attacked. Unable to watch she closed her eyes, covered her ears with both hands, but still the sounds leaked through, creeping straight into her heart. 

It was over in a moment. Nais dared to peer through the glass, her breath caught in her throat and her heart contracted into a freezing ball when she saw the dog devouring what was left of a little gentle creature. Limbs were scattered all over the floor, covered in blood. Nais shifted her eyes to the pleased and slightly amused face of Palpatine.

"It was just a rabbit," she whispered. "It didn't do anything."

"My dog needs to eat… and to train." His eyes sparkled for a moment with something so deeply dark that she shivered. "And you better know your place, _hussy_ ."

With those words he left. Nais stood there for some time more, trembling, leaning against the glass wall, behind which the dog finished its bloody meal.

*********** **********


	8. Chapter 8

Indeed, **Jedi Padawan**, that chapter didn't give any answers. This one will ;-) 

The torture's over, **Farore**. Or maybe it's just beginning *grins evilly* 

Thanks, **Athena**. I guess it's because when writing dreams you are not bound to reality and can let your imagination fly as high as you want. 

A/N Here comes the idea that became the starting point for this story. This idea is not mine, I saw it in one of the stories by **ewen**. So the credit goes to her. 

************ *********** 

The Nartala spaceport wasn't exactly the largest or most remarkable of others of its kind throughout the galaxy. Bristling with activity just as any other spaceport on any Republic planet, filled with hubbub of different languages – human and alien alike – full of various creatures, though humans were prevailing. Everything was common and everyday. 

But not for Anakin. For him it was full of wonders and curiosities, and he looked around with the big eyes of an amazed child, savoring the sights with the eagerness of a novice. For him it was the first step for his dream to come true. He was visiting one of the planets he dreamt of back there on Tatooine. 

Obi-Wan, on contrary, having seen hundreds of spaceports in his adventurous life was all business making his way through the maze-like glassy corridors of the main building to the spacious square where air taxis invited the customers repeatedly. 

There was no particular reason to be in a hurry, since a minute or two or even half an hour would make no difference yet something inside the older Jedi pushed him forward in a inexplicable rush he could contain no more than get the sun from the sky. A couple of times he had to forcibly slow himself down in order for the boy to catch up with him. Anakin's short-legged stride was no match to Obi-Wan's swift walk that had been attained and sharpened during his apprenticeship when he would rather die than fall behind – a combination of incredible stubbornness with a good deal of insecurity. And his Master, Obi-Wan reflected with a small smile, had been really hard to keep up with, especially when the towering Jedi had a purpose in front of him. 

The two Jedi approached the varying in shape and colour air taxis only to learn that the Temple of Nardiss and its lands were forbidden to fly around. The garrulous driver told them that even if the ruler of the planet decided to make military, or any other, transport fly through the Nardiss' grounds he would have to ask for the Temple's authority's permission. And said authority had every right to refuse. 

The only way to get to Nardiss was on foot. The driver, answering Anakin's not too politely asked question, reassured the Jedi that it wasn't too far away. 

"Well, Padawan, it seems we'll have to take a little trip on foot." Obi-Wan looked up at the deep blue sky with small fluffy clouds, painted gold by the caressing sun that has just risen above the horizon to greet the new day. "The weather looks to be just fine for a walk." 

The air taxi driver was kind enough to give them directions, and soon the two Jedi were on their way to learn the secret Obi-Wan wasn't really sure he wanted to know. 

************ *********** 

Flop! A large orange fruit landed loudly into a woven basket. 

"See, Telli, I'm ahead of you," a young girl teased, diving out of the thick shrubbery with yet another fruit in her hands. She took aim, launched the fruit into the basket and jumped in excitement when the orange sphere hit the target. 

Another girl dived out of the bushes, this one a bit older but wearing the same light loose-fitting pants and short tunic. She looked at her companion with a smile and shook her head reprovingly at the other's disheveled sight. Jauntily the younger girl gathered the blond mane into a thick ponytail and secured it with a red silky band that kept slipping from her hair constantly to her irritation. If not for Telli, the girl would have let her hair have their wild way. Telli laid her fruit carefully into another basket, and brushed her long dark – almost black – hair with a weary yet flowing gesture. 

"My, this is tiring," she commented, throwing her head back to let the sun bask her face in soothing radiance. 

"Let's take a rest then," the blonde suggested, plopping onto the grass readily. 

"And let you start your favorite conversation yet again? Thanks a lot." But Telli sat down as well, crossing her legs and taking a bottle with green mint-flavored liquid out of a canvas bag. 

"So what if I do?" Challenge rang clearly in the young and strong girl's voice. 

"Dary, you are sixteen, I would understand it if you looked for a boyfriend for yourself, not for _me_ ." Telli made a few sips and offered the bottle to the other who shook her head no. 

"But you need it more," the blonde countered, picking up one of the fruits and dipping her white even teeth into it. 

The older girl rolled her eyes skywards. "You're paying it entirely too much attention." 

"And you are twenty-two and not paying it any attention at all." 

The teasing tone didn't go unnoticed. As soon as the words left Dary's mouth Telli picked up a large fluffy leaf from the abundance of them that was scattered around the grass and threw it at the other girl with a deft fluid movement. Dary dodged the leaf giggling, and the fight ensured. Leaves flew through the air, hitting random targets until the two girls were exhausted enough to simply enjoy lying on the emerald grass with their limbs spread around them limply. 

Warm breeze brought distant heady scent of heated grass mixed with aromatic trace of flowers. Telli breathed it fully, marveling at the freshness and calmness of it 

"Now we better get back to work," she said, standing up reluctantly. A brunch caught at her hair, and she growled in irritation when her yellow band slipped, freeing her tresses. Fixing her hair with a sigh the girl retreated into the luxuriant vegetation. 

"I'll pick them around here," Dary called, standing up and starting to gather fruits from the nearest brunches. 

Minutes tickled by, uncared for in the warm fragrant air of summer afternoon. 

"Whoa!" Dary paused in her work to look at the nearby road. Walking the path was a vision of perfect beauty: sun-kissed hair slightly shorter than his shoulder fluttered on the wind, gently tanned skin almost glowing, dark brown cloak swaying around him with his every step like delicate waves of a sea. "Telli, come here now!" 

"What is it?" There was no mistaking the slight ringing of irritation in the voice of Dary's friend. 

"Look at _that_ !" The younger girl was too excited to notice anything else. 

"Look at what? Oh…" 

"Exactly – oh. How cute! He'll make a nice boyfriend for you. He's so pretty!" Telli cringed, absolutely sure that Dary's agitated exclamations could be heard all the way to the spaceport. But the teen could care less. "I'd love to have him as my boyfriend but he's a bit too old for me." She made a chagrined face, but next moment all traces of sadness were gone as an impish idea sparkled in her eyes. "Want to get to know him?" 

"What? Dary, wait!" Telli cried, but the girl was already set on her path and not even an armed squadron would be able to sway her. She was out on the road in mere seconds. 

************ *********** 

The two Jedi were enjoying their walk in silence – which was quite uncommon for Anakin, Obi-Wan observed – when a small hurricane disturbed the closest brushes and flew onto the road. The mayhem turned out to be a blond agitated teenager in white dress that remotely reminded the Jedi's garb. 

"Hi," she greeted the two cheerfully with a smile that seemed to cover half of her face. Obi-Wan and Anakin exchanged amused glances. 

"Hello to you too," the older Jedi said in a mellow voice that, unknowingly to him, made Dary's resolve grow up a few notches. 

"Are you going to Nardiss?" she asked bluntly. 

"Why, as a matter of fact we are. And…" 

"Then we can take you there," she cut him off before he could say anything else. 

"We?" was all Obi-Wan could say, nonplussed by her intensive vigor. 

"Yep, my friend's over there," the girl waved in the general direction of where she had come from. 

"In fact, she's over here," a calm melodic voice corrected from behind her back. The older girl stepped around her friend to greet the man and the boy. "Hello, I'm Telliko. And this rude lout," Dary glowered. "is my friend Dar'Yana." 

"Nice to meet you, ladies." The older Jedi was strongly amused now and, he had to admit to himself, quite enamored by Telliko. "I am Obi-Wan Kenobi and this is my apprentice Anakin Skywalker," he introduced and added, "We would be glad if you accompany us to Nardiss." /Trust me, Padawan,/ he sent mentally at Anakin's quizzical look. 

Telliko handed one of the baskets she was holding to Dar'Yana but was stopped by Obi-Wan. 

"If you let us help," he said courteously. The man took both baskets from the older girl and handed one of them to Anakin. /Would you mind, Padawan?/ 

/But Master, they can carry the baskets themselves./ Anakin complained through the bond as the not-too-light weight settled in his hands. 

/A good-mannered man would never let a lady carry something this heavy./ Obi-Wan countered. 

/But I'm not…/ 

/You are not what?/ A note of amusement coloured Obi-Wan's mental message as flickers of humor danced in his blue-green eyes. 

/Uh, nothing./ 

Heaving a half-hearted sigh the boy started to walk ahead, his back speaking volumes about his mood as he tried to show he wasn't all that pleased with his Master's sudden gallantry. Dary soon joined him to give Telliko and Obi-Wan some semblance of privacy, which was extremely needed according to her plan. 

"You don't look like a local," Telliko said, cocking her head to the side looking at Obi-Wan curiously from under thick long eyelashes that shaded the honey-colored skin of her cheeks. 

"I am not. Why?" 

"It's your name," Dary interjected. "In the ancient language of our predecessors it means… umm…" She put a finger to her lips with a childish gesture in a trying attempt to remember. 

"Noble," Telli supplied with a smile. 

"Yeah, right. That's what your name means – 'noble'." Dary smiled cheerfully and turned back to Anakin who was explaining to her – from what Obi-Wan could hear – the difference between motivators of protocol droids and astromech droids. 

"Kenobi means noble? Curious." He definitely was learning much interesting and new about himself lately, he thought. 

"Not your last name, silly," Telliko laughed, and her voice rang with silver bells. "It's Obi-Wan means noble." 

The Jedi concluded that he positively liked the way she said his name. 

Time had passed pleasantly in friendly talks when short but powerful tremors of the earth beneath their feet made them stop. 

"What is it?" Anakin asked, scared yet trying his best to hide his fright. But Obi-Wan could feel the jolt of fear that pierced the bond they shared when another tremble followed. 

"It's an earthquake," Dar'Yana explained to the tense boy. "Have you never been through one?" 

"We didn't have them on Tatooine," Anakin snapped, earning a reproving look from his Master. 

"We don't have them too often either," Dary told him in reconciliation. 

Another quake shook the ground violently, and the Padawan almost dropped the basket. With a loud wail a huge tree leaned and then, after yet another shake, it fell hard on the ground, carrying the smaller nearby trees. With a thunderous crash it landed, and Anakin jumped. He looked to be ready to hide inside his Master's voluminous cloak – which, he was certain, would have been allowed – when the tremors subsided and finally died away. 

"You really better stay out of the forest at such times," Dary commented offhandedly and started to walk. Anakin, blushing and cursing under his breath that he had let himself be frightened so, followed her. 

The four resumed their trip, and soon the accident was forgotten. 

Half an hour later, when Anakin started to consider just dropping the basket that now weighed down on his hands as though made of lead, tall yellow stone gates loomed ahead. 

"Chase you to the gates," Dary offered. 

Anakin turned to Obi-Wan, holding out the basket with a pleading look plastered on his round face. With a laugh the older Jedi took the basket from the boy whose face immediately brightened. Next moment Anakin and Dar'Yana took off in a dead run. 

No one of the four noticed a silent figure that followed them persistently at a distance. 

*********** ********** 

The next hour found the two Jedi and their new friends in a medium-sized cozy room that was decorated in a beige gamma with billions of curtains, veils, coverings draping the room in soft plaits of flowing fabrics. The four were seated around the room waiting for the Mato Kalia – the Grand Woman of the Nardiss – to come. 

Anakin was examining curiously the small plants which were placed all over the room in tiny pots on every flat surface and some even hanging in the air on silver strings, reminding his somewhat about Yoda's quarters back at the Jedi Temple. 

The boy fingered one plant, and it suddenly shifted, brushing against his finger making the padawan recoil in surprise. 

"Don't be afraid, it doesn't bite," Telliko laughed. 

"I'm not afraid," Anakin pouted but quickly forgot about it as the peculiar plant captured his attention again. 

The folds parted quietly to admit an old woman. She was old in general appearance, Obi-Wan thought, but definitely not in spirit. Her eyes – green like spring grass – sparkled with energy and kind laughter. Dar'Yana and Telliko stood up as well as Obi-Wan. The Jedi had to nudge Anakin mentally since the boy was so engrossed in his experiments with moving plant that he had managed to miss the woman's arrival, which was a hard task given her bright and strong presence in the Force. Blushing slightly Anakin quickly scrambled to his feet. 

The woman was dressed in white and beige flowing gown, her silver hair adding to the air of authority and purity she held. She wasn't tall – she barely reached Obi-Wan's shoulder – but incredibly quick, which belied her apparent age. 

"Good day and welcome." Her face practically glowed when she smiled warmly at them. She motioned for them to sit and, sitting down herself, continued, "I am the Mato Kalia and my name is Sadagail. What brings two so nice boys as yourselves here?" 

Obi-Wan not being used to such a warm and genuine welcome was slightly taken aback. Anakin smiled widely, flourishing under her caring gaze like a flower under the sun. 

"I am Jedi knight Obi-Wan Kenobi." Out of the corner of his eye Obi-Wan saw Dary and Telli exchange awed glances. "And this is my Padawan learner Anakin Skywalker. We came here because my mother…" He had to swallow around a sudden lump in his throat to continue. "…she left me a letter asking me to come here." 

"May I take a look at the letter?" Sadagail asked softly, kindly. 

Wordlessly Obi-Wan took it out of the inner pocket of his tunic and handed to the woman. She read it swiftly then looked up at the Jedi and returned the letter back to him. 

"I was told to address the High Master of this Temple…" Obi-Wan started to say, but was cut off. 

"Oh, my boy, now what should you visit him for? The old man has only nominal power, why in the world would you need him? I will take care of everything myself," Sadagail chirped sweetly, lighting the mood instantly. 

Though Obi-Wan had never had a loving grandmother – and had never seen his grandmother altogether – he had a strong feeling that he was being treated like a beloved grandson. And it threw him into confusion, though as a true Jedi he gave no outward sign of his disorientation. 

Under the directions from the Mato Kalia the two girls showed Obi-Wan and Anakin the adjacent rooms where they would stay, and both the Master and the Padawan found the rooms extremely comfortable. After their simple belongings were placed into said rooms the Jedi were taken to a large excursion which ended at the dining hall to pure delight of the hungry boy. 

The long table, covered with multifarious dishes, stretched from the entrance to another end of the giant hall. Obi-Wan was seated next to Sadagail – so that they could talk, he supposed. Anakin, overwhelmed by the abundance of various foods, was being taken care of by Dar'Yana. 

Obi-Wan wasn't disappointed in his expectations as Sadagail started to talk – not forgetting to eat at the same time. She managed to do both with surprising agility. At first she asked him general questions about the Jedi and himself, and he answered them not really paying attention until a certain phrase struck him. 

"Poor Alionna. I was afraid I would never hear anything about her again…" 

"Wait a minute. My mother's name is Tanarine, not Alionna." Confusion clouded his sea-change eyes a darker shade of green. As time passed more and more things were uncovered, the next moment bringing up more truth about the woman that had given birth to him. 

"The name is not all that important. Your name is a mere assortment of sounds with which other beings identify you, thereby securing your place in their universe. Tanarine, Alionna – it's all her. Poor child. She was so kind, so gentle and so very beautiful," she looked at him, and he suddenly blushed under her warm yet inspecting gaze. "No wonder he fell in love with her." 

Obi-Wan's stomach lurched. Somehow he knew she wasn't talking about Parel. "Who?" he inquired softly. "Who fell in love with her?" 

"Oh, I don't know. I've never seen him. Soon she fell in love with him, too." She paused, then murmured to herself, "Something strange was in that love." She looked up at Obi-Wan again. "Well, they married and left the planet." 

"Was it Parel Nobbs she married?" Deep down in his heart he knew it wasn't but he needed to ask anyway, to make sure. 

"Parel? No, I knew him very well. Poor boy was hopelessly in love with her since childhood but he left the planet about two years later. And Alionna wasn't here when he did." 

A loose end. It was starting to remind of investigation rather than visiting home – though this wasn't his home – and he wasn't really visiting – and… He shook his head. Things tangled, and he wasn't able to set them straight. He needed to change the subject. "Why do you keep calling her Alionna?" 

"Look at them," Sadagail made a sweeping gesture encompassing the whole dining hall, full of people. "They all came here by free choice. But when they enter these walls they are bound to leave their names behind and forget them. Here they are given new names with no last names since we're all one family here. This is how Tanarine Kenobi had become Alionna." 

************ ************ 

The ritual was appointed next morning. 

 The peaceful dawn found Obi-Wan Kenobi sitting in a comfortable chair next to his apprentice's bed, contemplating abstract things, too excited and too full of dread to sleep himself. The rising sun touched the boy's head lighting it up with golden fire. The blanket slipped from Anakin's shoulder, and Obi-Wan tugged it back into place absentmindedly. 

He sighed. Everything was so tangled, confusing around him. He wasn't sure who he was anymore. Where was his place? His hand found the river stone inside his tunic and clasped it tightly. His place had been with Qui-Gon. But now – now he was gone, just like that, gone forever. Afraid he might actually break the stone Obi-Wan released his hold on it. 

His eyes shifted to land on Anakin's blissfully serene face. Was this his place now? Was the boy his only beacon in the stormy sea of desperation? 

The Jedi's eyes shifted again and locked with two blue orbs, full of cheerfulness and curiosity. Smile tugged at Obi-Wan's lips. 

"Master, why are you sitting here full-dressed?" Anakin asked sleepily, blinking up at him. 

"Would you prefer me sitting here in my sleeping pants?" Not waiting for Anakin to come up with any response Obi-Wan reached out and tickled the boy. Joyous giggles were his reply. "Now get up and I'll go see if they have anything for breakfast." 

Obi-Wan disappeared out the door to return a few minutes later with a tray full of fruits, bread, a large mug of something reminding of coffee and two cups. 

~Yes, this is my place now,~ he thought, setting the tray on a table, knowing that it was just a calmness before the storm but not wishing to think about it. 

As soon as the Jedi finished their breakfast a knock on the door, as well as the Force, alerted them to a morning visitor. Smiling brightly and genuinely Sadagail entered the room. 

"I see you have already had your meal," she cooed. "Good, very good. Now, my boy, you need to dress properly. All you need is on your bed." 

Offering her a small smile of his own Obi-Wan headed to his room. Five minutes later he emerged from the door wearing a peculiar gown and a frown on his face. 

"I am supposed to wear these?" he asked, holding out a pair of sandals on high sole, with leather straps, decorated with fine jewels that were glinting in the sun. 

"Exactly," Sadagail replied happily. "What bothers you?" 

"Nothing," Obi-Wan grumbled, putting the footwear on. "Well, how do I look?" he asked, straightening and staring at Anakin. 

"Um, Master, it's kinda scary. It's like your eyes are all over you," Anakin gave his honest assessment. 

And indeed, the loose white toga Obi-Wan had on was spangled with numerous gems of the blue-green color that was matching the shade of Obi-Wan's eyes perfectly. 

"It is supposed to be that way," Sadagail interjected. "Now, my boy, follow me." 

Anakin was about to follow them too when he was stopped by a gentle but firm hand. 

"You will have to stay here," the Mato Kalia explained. "No outsiders are allowed to see the ritual." 

Pouting Anakin plopped onto the bed. 

"I'll wait for your return," he called after Obi-Wan's retreating back. 

As they walked Sadagail explained some nuances to Obi-Wan. 

"The ritual depends mostly on you since you're Alionna's relative and you are the one who calls her from the land of the dead. Concentrate on her. It all depends on your concentration. If you lose your concentration you will lose the contact. You can talk to her as long as you want – or rather as long as you can go without food and water and sleep," the Mato Kalia instructed. 

"Suppose I do lose my concentration will I be able to contact her again? Maybe the new ritual?" 

"No. This is a one-time act. I'm afraid this is the only time you are going to see her again." The old woman laid a comforting hand on the young man's shoulder. 

Sadagail and Obi-Wan crossed the inner yard to a small yellow-stone rotunda that was standing to the side from the activity of the temple. Double doors opened with a faint creak into the cool darkness. 

"Come on in," Sadagail prompted. 

Pausing for a heartbeat, almost unnoticeably hesitant Obi-Wan stepped into a round room and stopped, examining the area, adoring its beauty both with his eyes and through the Force – the energy of the Force opened up grains of matter, hidden from human eye, letting him see on the different level, and what he saw was strikingly magnificent, covered by the mystery of ancient ages and traditions kept. The walls here were decorated with polished veined stones that were practically shining in the Force with natural radiance complimented by the fine work of artists and the strength of the place itself. Tall columns were adorning the room. Made of bluish-white mineral they were almost translucent and just as slender and elegant as the girls who were moving around the room like soundless shadows. 

The five girls were lighting up tall thick white candles that filled the air with barely perceptible scent. Something stirred deep in Obi-Wan's soul, something so long forgotten – maybe never even known – that he couldn't name it. It appealed to deep-buried feelings he hadn't known he held. Was it love for this place? Or was it something else? Whatever it was it made his heart beat faster. 

Quiet ringing filled the easy silence, and it took the Jedi a few moments to realize that it were the girls' garments that produced the sound. Telliko turned to Obi-Wan and smiled to him reassuringly before continuing with her work. She was dressed – as each of the girls – in black silky attire with thin straps that were sailing in the air around her like a feathery cloud. The dress was trimmed with an intricate pattern of weaving fine silver chains that were hanging loosely at the bottom of her dress, reaching her ankles. These very chains produced the soft melodic sound when she moved. 

Obi-Wan's eye caught the brilliance of silver, and he thought how fitting silver looked on her, accentuating her black hair, framing her lovely face in a corona of woven black and silver, making her look like an eastern princess. 

Another girl – this one 'dressed' in copper – whispered something to Telli, and the other whispered back what appeared to be directions. 

A small dais stood in the center of the round room; a large granite vase perched atop it. The vase was filled with water on which floating was a shallow metal plate full of oil, giving a matte glow in the candlelight. 

Obi-Wan heard large heavy wooden doors close behind him, and his heart leapt in anticipation. Sunlight vanished, giving place to the wan but steady light of the candles. The room, now bathed in semi-darkness, attained the atmosphere of ancient myths, secrets unrevealed and truths unspoken. Flickering light of candles covered the spaces between the columns with a veil of darkness and highlighted five women's figures moving around like ghosts. 

Following the leading hand on his elbow Obi-Wan approached the dais. 

"Stay here," he heard Sadagail whisper. Soundlessly, calmly, solemnly she floated like a goddess of mists to stand on the opposite side of the round dais, facing the Jedi. 

The girls surrounded them in a circle, five metals lighting up to shine, it seemed, on their own: honey gold, brilliant silver, red flaming copper, snow-white zinc and flower-violet carmonium. 

Sadagail started to say something loudly in a melodious and heartfelt voice. Her mantra escalated to almost a song only to die down to a hushed whisper only to rise full force again when she lowered her hands in a sharp fine gesture, and flames sprang up under her fingers. 

Dark bottomless eyes that held a universe of knowledge turned to look at Obi-Wan. "Kneel." 

The Jedi obeyed implicitly. A brief thought flickered across his mind that he was lucky to have all those meditation sessions back at the Temple – now he could kneel for hours on end. But the thought was immediately dismissed and forgotten as he concentrated on the unraveling ritual. 

Sadagail was gone now, though he – even with his Jedi reflexes and years of training and experience – didn't notice her departure. The girls were moving around him in a slow, hypnotizing and painfully lovely dance. He could have spent hours like this, watching them dance, but fire – fire that was devouring oil on the plate greedily – captured his attention, mesmerized him, filled his eyes with luminosity until he could see nothing else. The girls stepped back and soon melted in the darkness leaving him alone with himself and his ghosts. 

And a ghost did come. Her face had interwove from the very air, caressed by the flames, and soon she was just as real as he, standing in front of him, only the dais separating them. He felt tears form in his eyes, and he quickly wrapped them away as to not let them blur her image. She was strikingly charming and painfully innocent as the death – or the ritual – brought freshness and loveliness of youth to her features. 

Her eyes – so much like his own, glowing with affection – looked at him, and he saw tears of joy stream down her face to fall on the floor silently. 

"My son," she whispered, her voice thick with love, breaking from emotion. "My lilae. How long I waited to see you again. Oh, you're so beautiful, so strong!" 

The tightness in Obi-Wan's chest made breathing almost unbearable, incredibly hard. He reached out a hand to touch her, to caress her but ended up clutching the stone dais for support. He wouldn't be able to touch her ever again – so close yet so far – the thought nearly made him scream. Gritting his teeth he resorted to watching her, hearing her, feeling her through the Force – the bright though hazy presence. 

Oblivious to the time passing they both were content to just see each other, be in each other's presence. Simply be there… 

Until the moment came, and Tanarine broke the silence. 

"My son, my Obi-Wan, there is a secret I need to tell you." 

Her words fell like stones on his heart, and he swallowed hard, his heart beating frantically in trepidation. 

"What is this secret? What is it you could not tell me then but must tell me now?" the hoarseness of his voice, the slight accusation in his voice startled him, and he tried to amend only to be silenced by the wave of her hand. 

"You need to know that Parel Nobbs is not your father." Obi-Wan nodded, showing he knew this already. "Your father is another man…" she trailed off as though too terrified to even say his name. 

He could not postpone the inevitable any longer, could not wait any longer. "Who?" His voice cut the air sharply, breathlessly. 

"Your father's name is…" she paused, gauging his reaction, and then as though reluctant she squeezed out the name, "Darth Sidious." 

************ ************ 


	9. Chapter 9

**Farore**, hey, I'm the first in the line to hug him :D But I'll send him right to you when I'm done 

_Get the smelling salt_. Would you lend me some, **Renee**? Obi definitely needs it now. And he's not the only one. 

Thanks, **Athena**. 

**JediGal101**, you better wake up now to see what happens next :D 

************ *********** 

A shrill cutting noise resounded in Palpatine's office, and Nais stretched her hand across the table lazily to flip on the comm. unit. Pale, almost transparent in the bright Coruscant day hologram appeared soaring in the well conditioned air of the office. Its hazy contours flickered for a moment over the polished mahogany tabletop then stabilized. Nais straightened abruptly assuming the posture and face of a stinker-boss as the hologram's face came into focus. 

"Yes, Madis," she said in a cold business-like tone. This oily sycophant was the second in her hate-list. 

"I need to talk to the Lord. I have news for him. Switch into the safe mode, pretty," he said slyly. His words, his tone disgusted the woman, and she let some of her aversion show on her face. 

Something feathery – either intuition or something else – itched in her mind demanding attention, bringing excitement into her hematite eyes. The excitement, which she quickly concealed under long furry eyelashes. "He's not here. You can tell me, and I'll convey your message to him." 

She saw doubt cloud his rough face, his brow furred in an arduous thought process. Mistrust, laden with desire to be noted warred with urgency – a picturesque battle played out by his facial muscles. Finally urgency won the fight, although an imprint of hesitancy still lingered in his voice. 

"I followed the subjects to Nartala – a mid Rim planet. They came to the local temple. A ritual of some sort is being held right now. Kenobi seems to be talking to his mother. I never seen…" 

Sensing he was ready to lapse into extensive discourse Nais cut him off sharply. "To the point." 

Slightly embarrassed at his verbosity the man nodded. "The point is that Kenobi's father is Lord Sidious." 

For a second the information didn't register with her, and she continued to stare at Madis blankly. Then his words clicked together, the meaning filling the shape. 

"What did you say?" 

"I said Kenobi is Lord Sidious' own child." 

"Very well. I will tell the Lord. Continue watching them." She switched off the comm. hastily, and leaned back in the black throne-like chair. 

A half formed idea sprang into her mind, teasing her with specter-colored tail of possibilities. Slowly Nais rolled a pencil between her fingers, lost in her reverie. She was sure this bit of news was very important – more than that it could Palpatine bring to his demise. She only needed to figure out how to use it. 

She needed time. 

Time… 

She threw the pencil onto the table sharply as her first step took shape in her mind. She needed time and she would get it. Hurriedly Nais punched a code into the comm., throwing back the hair from her forehead with one graceful shake of her head. 

A hologram of a young man appeared over the table. He scowled at her sight but quickly schooled his regular features into a polite frown. 

"Iktar, do you know Madis?" 

"That slippery fellow? Yes, I do remember him. Why do you ask?" 

"He's on Nartala now, at the local temple called Nardiss if I'm not mistaken." She knew she wasn't. She had always been good in memorizing details. 

"So what?" Iktar's voice showed clearly that he was very busy and unless she had some business in mind she better finish the conversation. 

"I want him dead." Nais stated coldly. She risked. She risked very much saying this. She could only hope Iktar wouldn't go to Sidious and tell him of this. Because if he did a fate worse than death awaited her. 

Though there weren't many fates worse than what she had now. 

A tantalizing minute of silence passed as Iktar studied her closely. She clasped her hands nervously under the table. Agree or disagree? 

"Did he get on your nerves so much?" the man finally laughed. Nais blew a silent sigh of relief. "Okay, I'll get the universe rid of that scum. You owe me one." With a flick of his wrist he ended the conversation. 

Nais brushed her fingers through her long amber-colored locks. Now that she made sure Sidious doesn't learn about his son too soon – though she had no doubt he would learn eventually – now that she had a bit of time to act first she needed to work out her steps precisely, she had no right for mistake. And she needed to act really fast. 

For many years she had been looking for a weaknesses in him – weaknesses that might help her destroy him – and found none. He was always careful, always alert. A brilliant strategist he calculated his every step like a genius chess player. And he always seemed to know what his enemies would do next. 

Sometimes she wondered how come he didn't know she wanted to destroy him – wanted desperately, passionately, to the trembling in the knees. And only recently had she come to realize that it was her natural shielding at work. Her shields were strong enough to keep him out of her most concealed thoughts. Everything else that went through her mind was laid out for him to examine, to poke with his dirty fingers. But the shields protected a small portion of her thoughts and plans – the portion she would have been instantly killed for had he known. 

Truth to tell, her shields weren't all that natural. Though based on the shields every living being possesses more or less they had been skillfully aided to become more adamantine, more impenetrable. 

It had been done when she had been no more than three when both her parents died a horrible death before her very eyes. She had been in silent stupor for two weeks after that, too deeply affected, too vastly hurt to notice the world of the living. And then the shields were erected, based on her own but strengthened to a great extent. She carried them ever since. 

Her thoughts returned to the present as a reckless speeder flew too close to the office's window, disrupting the silence she was immersed in. Nais straightened. She couldn't make it on her own, she needed a counsel. And she knew where to get it. The person who built these shields for her the one who raised her. Yes, there she would get a wise advice. 

Swiftly Nais Kobierta left Palpatine's office and headed to the place only few knew about. 

************* ************ 

"Your father's name is…" she paused, gauging his reaction, and then as though reluctant she squeezed out the name, "Darth Sidious." 

The name fell like thunder on the unsuspecting head, tearing and breaking the thin-layered fabric of reality. Startled, shaken to the core of his soul Obi-Wan recoiled from the dais, from her lovely image and from her terrible words. He looked in horror at his mother – this woman who suddenly seemed a distant stranger in the dusk. 

"W-what… How… Y-you couldn't… How could you?!" Words didn't come together, breaking apart, shattering into pieces like fractured glass. What she said was impossible, unthinkable, unreal – he couldn't accept it. His clouded sapphire eyes met her equally troubled green ones, searching for denial, pleading for mercy. 

She lowered her eyes as though in shame, as though she couldn't stand the intensity of prayer in his luminous eyes. 

"I'm sorry…" a hushed whisper flew from her lips to melt in the suffocating air. "Sorry to bring this upon you." 

"No!" The fierceness of his voice startled her. Wincing she looked up at him again. "It's impossible!" 

"Obi-Wan…" her words died away, choked by the shock hanging in the air, washed away by brilliant tears. 

"Do you…" he swallowed hard. "Do you know who he is – what he is?" 

~Madness, this is madness. She couldn't have married a Sith! He doesn't even exist, does he?~ 

~But he does, and you know it!~ 

~But he can't be… can't be my…  **father**!~ 

~Oh, blast!~ 

Obi-Wan looked up. Tanarine's face, illuminated with tender flames, seemed to be an incarnation of innocence, of ethereal beauty. 

"Did you – know?" he asked again. 

Her voice was thin and faltering when she started to speak again softly, but her words cut into his mind like knives to be forever engraved there. "I didn't know then. When I first met him he was a young man – he was so nice to me, so gallant, so… We spent much time together… I fell in love. He was the best! We married, and I happily left my life here to be his wife." She smiled, and her smile held the unspeakable bittersweet sadness of pleasant memory. "It was the happiest time in my life! I loved and was loved. We had everything a family can wish for. And he… he was so attentive, so loving, so devoted – I couldn't have wished for a better husband. We were in heaven…" Her face got a faraway look as memories swept her up in a sweet whirlwind. 

With a visible effort she returned herself to the present. "In nine months a baby was born – the child of our love. It was a boy, and we called him… Avayn." 

Obi-Wan looked her in the eyes, his mind imbued with surprise. Wasn't she talking about him? Hope rose in him belying everything: belying logic and crazed screams of his common sense – baseless, desperate hope, a thin silver string to hold on to – and he held onto it. 

She sighed and continued her story. 

"It was you. Yes, the first name you were given is Avayn. I named you Obi-Wan later myself. He was so glad then, so caring! For the whole year we lived together and we were the happiest family until…" She paused to draw a shuddering breath, and a shadow seemed to cross her features. 

Obi-Wan didn't take his eyes away from her, unable to move, listening hungrily, two desires tearing him apart, taking away all the words – a desire to know as much as possible about himself even if it breaks his heart; and desire to run away, to shut her words out and never hear them again. 

"Until I learned who he was. Until I learned – by pure accident – how dark he was, how cruel, merciless. When I learned that I… I was scared. I didn't know what to do, where to run, how to save you from him. I didn't want you to become like him – and I had no doubts he would have made you…" She looked at her son, and Obi-Wan felt his heart contract painfully at all the gentleness, all the love her gaze carried – and all the anguish. 

He reached his hand to touch her, to soothe her, to wipe away the tears on her cheeks. Flames met his hand gleefully, but he didn't pay them any attention, craving the physical contact he was denied for many years, craving the reassurance this was real, craving to be a comforter… But his hand met only air, empty air and searing pain as flames licked his bare skin. He retracted his hand feeling something inside himself fade and die in agony. And he was denied what little solace a single touch could bring – denied forever. 

"And I ran. I ran away thoughtlessly, hastily, not knowing where to go, how to hide for he… he was – and still is – so powerful, nothing would have stopped him. I don't know if he loved you – after what I learned I don't think I ever knew anything about him at all. But I know that he wanted a son – a successor. If he finds out you still live…" She lowered her face into her hands. Silence fell heavily, cloaking the room. Candles flickered. 

"And so I ran," Tanarine's voice was nothing more than a whisper now, yet it drummed in her son's ears like thunder. "I came here, but didn't return to the Nardiss. I was too scared – and too lonely. I knew I couldn't trust anyone because any person could turn out to be his spy. I knew he would find me sooner or later…" A hiccup broke her speech, and Obi-Wan's heart broke at the sound. 

"Please, don't." His own voice sounded alien to him – too hoarse, too broken. 

"I escaped him. By sheer luck. He thought me to be dead – he thought we were both dead. And he stopped the search. I married Parel but could never escape the fear. Fear ruled my life ever since. Every time a stranger came to our home or Owen or Parel were late my heart sank with fear. From all the love I once had I was left only fear." Her voice became louder, anger ringing clearly in it. " _He_ … He made me like this. He turned my life into living hell!" she cried in hate, choking on her tears. 

"But most of all I feared for you. I wanted so much to keep you with me, wanted my beloved son to be always with me, but if he found me… I couldn't bear the thought of you becoming like him… And I called the Jedi. I gave you up to them. The last ray of light was gone from me that day. But I knew… I knew it was for the better. They could protect you, they could teach you how to use your powers – powers you inherited from him – how to use them for good." 

Their gazes locked, transferring emotions better than any words ever could, sharing the pain, easing the fear – two pairs of identical eyes, finding consolation in each other. 

Soundlessly long moments flowed around them, wrapping them up in the fleeting eternity of shared feelings – shared for the last time. 

And then the connection broke, the two of them becoming again but the lonesome strangers. 

"I need to tell you one more thing…" 

"That my grandfather is a devil?" The bitter sarcasm in his voice startled even him, but he could not take the words back, could not silence them once they were said. He could only watch her recoil in shame and guilt, could feel the guilt settle in his own heart. How could he be so cruel to her? 

"You have all the right to hate me now…" she said dejectedly. 

"But I don't," he protested, and she silenced him with a wave of her hand. 

"When we married his name was different." 

"What does it matter?" 

"Please, it's important…" The floor suddenly shook under his feet, and Tanarine's image fluttered dangerously as Obi-Wan's concentration wavered. "His other name is…" 

She never finished as the massive earthquake overtook the building, shaking it violently. Flames flared up as the burning plate with oil jumped on the water. A tall candle fell, then another followed it down. A new powerful tremble had Obi-Wan thrown to the ground, covering his face as burning candles crashed onto him, setting fire to his clothes, charring his skin. 

A crystal-clear thought laced harshly through his mind – perhaps it was the Force itself speaking – and he climbed back onto his knees, throwing the candles away. 

"What is his other name?!" he cried into gloomy emptiness over the heart-rending groans of the shuddering building. "Tell me!" But there was no one to answer him – Tanarine was gone, her image had disintegrated as his concentration failed. 

"No! Don't go!" he screamed, leaping onto his feet in a surge of near panic. Suddenly all energy left him, his knees gave way, and he crashed back onto the stone floor, gripping the soft wax of the candles blindly. 

"Please…" His broken whisper echoed around the hollow room to return to him in a mocking plea. 

And then it hit him – all that he had heard, the meaning of the words that had been said hit him in a huge wave of realization, and he got lost in it, drawing short raspy breaths, writhing on the floor. 

His father – the man who should be the support, the one to be proud of – was the Lord of the Sith. The dark monster that sent Darth Maul, the monster that ordered Qui-Gon be killed. 

Raw pain rushed up in a surge of blood, and he struck the floor with his fist. 

He was the son of the murderer of the one who had been his only father – the closest person – for twelve years. 

He was bound by blood to the one who was the reason of Qui-Gon's death. 

Wasn't it betrayal in itself? 

Wasn't it the worst betrayal possible? 

Suddenly the darkness of the room seemed unbearable, boiling with tight emotions, and Obi-Wan got onto his feet shakily. Stumbling, hobbling he made a few steps with no direction, his hands roaming the air blindly. Time froze for him as he wandered the room, frantically trying to find a way out. 

Heavy doors budged under his hands, and blinding sun assaulted his tear-filled eyes. His body suddenly felt as though made of lead, weighing him down. He made a step… then another. 

And then he could take no more. Bonelessly he sank to his knees. A distant call reached his muddled brain, but he was unable to recognize the voice patterns or make out the words. Hazy spots filled his eyes with dizzying kaleidoscope. 

A shadow blocked the sun from him, and he reached his hand out to it sightlessly, then collapsed to the ground as blissful darkness encompassed him. 

*********** *********** 


	10. Chapter 10

**Athena**, I'm not cruel, I'm just slightly evil :))) I guess me and you will have to find a way to hug him together at once, because he is certainly going to need it much throughout the fic, lol. 

Oh, I didn't mean to upset you so, **Farore**. Don't cry. Kicking butts – there'll be a lot of that :) only… who and whose? By the way, what exactly confuses you in the title? 

**Jedi Padawan**, how do you expect Sidious to recognize Obi-Wan's presence among many other Jedi when he is sure his son is dead? Besides, remember, Obi-Wan couldn't contact his mother – and she was still alive then. He had inherited something from her too. You'll see what it is later. And you are absolutely right in your assumptions about his fathers. You even put them in the right time order. 

**Renee**: Other Sith? You mean Nais? She's not a Sith but she _is_ up to something… read and see, the fic is long :) 

************ *********** 

Several hours had passed since the massive earthquake had overtaken the temple and shaken it to the core. And it had been several hours since Obi-Wan lay stock-still and ashen-pale on the wide bed that was lovingly swathed with ornate covers. The drapes fell down softly to rest at the feet of the young girl who was sitting at the bedside. Her worried lilac eyes watched continuously the slow rise and fall of the knight's chest, stripped of the parched clothes, gleaming with matte glow of salve in the crimson rays of low sun. 

Her hand touched lightly his pallid lithe fingers, wanting to squeeze but daring not under the heavy scrutiny of the small guard on the other side of the bed whose azure eyes watched her warily, zealously and with a tint of jealousy. 

Anakin in his fright – multiplied tenfold when he had seen Obi-Wan collapse – had refused to let go of his Master's hand and now sat next to him on the bed, alert for any kind of shift in the unconscious knight's face. But his eyes kept straying to the young woman next to him – to this unexpected rival in tending to _his_ Master. 

He wasn't quite sure why was he feeling this sudden animosity towards her. It seemed to be uncalled for. But was it? He looked over possible reasons mentally as Obi-Wan had taught him. Why could he feel hostility in the first place? He curled his puffy lips in thought. 

One of the reasons was if he had been attacked. This reason appeared stupid, though, and he almost snorted. Telliko had never attacked him like Sebulba or any other bully on Tatooine would. No, she was nice and kind all the time. 

Another reason might be if he saw someone really ugly. Like that kidraku spider he had once stumbled upon in the Temple Gardens. He could still vividly recall the disgust and fright he felt looking at the creature. He remembered the heated frenzy with which he grabbed a rock and smashed the spider again and again. He felt his cheeks redden in shame as he recalled how that very morning his Master had lectured him on the price of every life; and then he had gone and taken a life. But what an ugly and useless life that had been! 

He was suddenly very glad that the sun was so low, tinting the room with the red sunset shadows. He raised his eyes at Telliko again. This reason didn't fit either: she was nowhere near ugly. On contrary, he found her very beautiful, almost as beautiful as Padme – his Angel. 

An unbidden thought made him frown. If _he_ had an angel that meant Obi-Wan could have an angel, too. A quick studying glance at the knight, then back at the woman. What if?.. Heat rose in his stomach, but not a pleasant heat. He narrowed his eyes as an unknown emotion twisted his innards in knots. 

Inadvertently his thoughts turned to his mother, and he searched for this emotion in their relationship – and found none. She had always been his and his alone. He didn't have any siblings, he didn't have even a father to share her with. He had always been one and only. 

But in the last months everything had changed. The simple connections he had had on Tatooine were replaced by more sophisticated and refined – cultured as some would say – relationships of the larger world. And he sometimes found himself lost in the webs of pretence, not knowing who was true and who was not. 

And at such moments his emotions used to tangle, tripping him on his own thoughts, confusing him. And that was what his relationship with Obi-Wan sometimes was – confusing, unclear. 

At first, after a habit, he had thought that Obi-Wan as the closest being to him would be just as his mother had been – only his. But he had been quickly proved wrong. The very moment they had stepped out of the transport that had brought them from Naboo to Coruscant. That moment a whirlwind of beige had all but slammed into them, wrapping itself around the newly knighted Jedi's neck. Anakin had resisted an urge to grab at his Master's cloak lest he'd be swept away by the unknown attacker. 

The attacker, however, turned out to be Obi-Wan's life-long friend Bant, who having greeted her friend had turned her large round eyes at the small apprentice. With a pang of surprise Anakin had realized that her eyes had been silver just as Obi-Wan had described them. To his relief she hadn't been much taller than him, which had earned her a bit more of his sympathy. 

But now, recalling this first meeting, he knew that this unknown emotion had been there also, buried beneath layers of wonder and surprise, weariness and grief. It was weak, unnoticeable then but it was there and dark in its origins. 

Absently his fingers found an anchor that tied him to the Jedi and more importantly to Obi-Wan, a physical evidence of their connection – the braid. The tips of his fingers ran lightly over the plaited softness, then suddenly wrapped around it. It wasn't yet long enough for him to see, but he knew how it looked: sometimes he spent minutes in the 'fresher, looking in a mirror, examining the double colored braid – fiery bright with locks of Obi-Wan's hair and sandy blond where his hair mixed in, interwoven tightly – the symbol of their strength together. 

A sound of the opening door startled him out of his thoughts, and he raised the questioning eyes at the entering woman. She smiled at him warmly. 

"It is getting late. The little one needs rest," she said quietly. 

"I will sleep here," Anakin protested, laying a hand onto Obi-Wan's exposed shoulder for emphasis. 

"He needs his rest, and you need yours," the woman disagreed. 

"But if he wakes…" 

"Telliko will give him whatever he needs. She will stay here and take care of him." 

"But… if he needs me?" He looked around desperately as though searching for a argument for them to let him stay. 

"I will call you if he needs you," Telliko cut in. 

Anakin shot her a glare that was not – quite – withering. She refused to be withered, looking at him with clear violet eyes. 

Vastly outnumbered Anakin hung his head, hopped down from the bed and followed the woman out sulkily. 

At the door he paused, throwing one last glance at the sleeping knight and the woman beside him. A thought struck him, and he curled his lips in distaste. He knew what happened when a man and a woman stayed alone in a room. On Tatooine such things weren't a subject to hide, and he had seen and heard enough to be unsettled now. Of course, Obi-Wan was unconscious, but Anakin wasn't too well acquainted with this issue to be sure if it would be an obstacle. 

************* ************ 

Rain greeted Jango Fett as his ship settled onto the round gray landing platform of Tipoca city. He swept the place with a quick professional glance, taking in the sleek as though smoothed by water contours of the buildings, the dim glow of tall beacons, hopelessly lost under the veil of downpour. Splinters of sky fell into waves in tight torrents of spurts. 

The silent ominous buildings showed no sign of activity. Only a small oval hole of a door shone against the darkened background of the obscure structures. Done with the preliminary survey Jango left the warm coziness of his ship and stepped out into the rain. 

He was immediately drowned in the cascades of water, and his clothes became wet, sticking to his body, hindering his moves. He usually liked water, but not in such amounts. Cursing under his breath Jango made a few steps to the only entrance. 

Two transparent plates slid to the sides, revealing a sparkling white corridor. Alert, hand on the blaster holster, Jango stepped into the corridor slowly. The doors soundlessly shut behind him. Gazing around the bounty hunter waited. 

His wait wasn't long however as a bizarre creature rounded the corner. Tall and slender, it looked like it might break any moment. It walked swaying slightly, gracious and frightening at the same time. 

"Hello, Jango Fett," the creature intoned in a strangely soft singsong voice. Two large smoky eyes peeped out from the bulbous head. "My name is Lanu To. Please follow me." 

Shrugging the man followed, feeling as though he had walked in dirty boots into an infirmary. 

************ *********** 

A thin lonely figure, covered in voluminous flowing black cloak from head to toe, slipped from the Senate building like a sneaking shadow. On a large open landing platform it paused, choosing a transport. Sable eyes peeked keenly from under the hood that covered the face from undesired onlookers perfectly. Choosing a swoop-bike the figure strode swiftly to it and climbed on with a startling grace. With the low grumble the engine came to life and the inky swoop with its passenger sped off into the web of Coruscant's traffic. 

The figure, however didn't notice a small – about ten centimeters in diameter – spy-droid that had attached itself under one of the swoop's short wings. 

The rider took a winding track – it was obvious that he or she knew well the enormous city's streets – and the trip ended at one of the spaceports. Dismounting quickly, the rider left the swoop and plunged into a mass of creatures, mixing with the crowd. 

The spy-droid disconnected from the swoop's bottom and with a thin barely audible whine started after the retreating figure. 

With a surprising dexterity the black-clad figure made its way into the spaceport's building. Entering the tall glass doors that were constantly open, letting the two surges of beings pass in the opposite directions, the figure ran to the side, brushing the beings around it with the folds of its cloak. It found a small niche and squeezed itself into it. Once away from the nudges of the bubbling crowd the figure lowed the hood to reveal the attractive though somewhat pale face of Nais Kobierta. She scanned the huge hall with a vigilant sharp glance before starting on her way to the ticket-office. 

But in all her cautiousness she failed to notice the droid, following her effortlessly in the distance. 

Snapping edgy glances to the sides every now and then she bought a ticket to a transport heading to one of Coruscant's moons. Hiding the ticket beneath her cloak the woman started to walk toward the landing platform when she finally noticed her little tracker. She stopped abruptly, as though shot. Her exquisite face paled even more. This could only be one of Palpatine's droids, and if he learned what she was up to… 

Nais bit her lip. ~What to do?!~ her mind screamed. ~What to do now?!~ 

A plan formed in her head. 

Pretending to have missed the black sphere, hovering unobtrusively some three meters away, she started to walk again, trying instinctively to catch the rhythm of the crowd, to become one with it. Heart pounded loudly in her chest, almost covering the noise of variegated speech that filled the spaceport's air. Breathlessly she counted in a whisper. 

One… 

Two… 

Three… 

Go! 

With a lightning-quick gesture she threw her cloak onto a nearby Bothan and started towards the nearest column in a dead run. People shouted and jerked in different directions. Chaos ensued. Rounding the column she leaned against it, panting, barely able to breathe. Putting a hand to her chest she steadied her racing heart a bit and only then did she dare to peek around the column. 

The wave of panic had died down already, the disorganized rows had resumed their endless drift. Only the droid was still flying over the crowd back and forth searching, obviously at a loss as to where its persecuted had vanished. Squinting Nais saw a strip of black fabric clasped tightly in the droid's manipulators. 

Poor Bothan. But her secret was much more precious to her than the Bothan's wounded pride. 

Sliding away from the metal column Nais mixed with the crowd, unseen. 

*********** ********** 

Telli pushed the soft drapes apart and entered the small room that Sadagail called her office. The old woman's tender eyes came up from the data-pad on the table before her to look at the girl. 

"Mato Kalia, I think Obi-Wan should stay here for at least a week," Telliko stated straight away. 

"Do you really think he needs it?" The eyes of the old woman danced with sparkles. 

What was she up to, Telliko wondered. 

"Of course. It is quiet here, peaceful, nature all around. And Coruscant, I've read, has much transport, even more population and there are no trees at all." 

"Tell it to their Council." A cunning smile at the very corners of her lips made her look like a silver tulustian fox. 

"How is that?" 

"How? Like usual. They will contact us again, and you'll tell them. One of them called this morning already – a gloomy swarthy fellow, he wasn't happy from the looks of him that I didn't call tsa-lilae here – like I would care to wake him only because this 'Master Windu' wanted to talk." Sadagail huffed. "He wanted to talk to Anakin instead, but why bother the child? All in all he disconnected empty-handed. So it's your turn to talk to them." 

A lump of sticky fear came to her throat. Talk to the Jedi? And the Council no less. But there was no time for thinking – and being nervous – as the comm. unit started to beep, announcing the incoming transmission. 

The hologram swayed a little, then stabled, though some surges of static still ran through it, distorting the image. It was indeed a 'gloomy swarthy fellow'. He looked before him frowningly, as though someone had stolen his family jewels. 

Pulling down her tunic and straightening herself Telliko entered the transmission circle. The man frowned even more. 

"Good day," she said with a light bow. "I'm Telliko." 

His face showed… nothing, actually. Like a stone statue. 

"I would like to speak to Knight Kenobi," he spoke in such a tone as if she were a droid. 

"I'm afraid it is impossible. He is still asleep." 

Did she really see the annoyance in his dark eyes? 

"Then tell him when he wakes up that he must immediately return to Coruscant." The Master reached out to shut the transmission. 

"No." 

She seemed to have surprised him. 

"Pardon me?" 

"Obi-Wan Kenobi must stay here for at least a week. He needs rest." 

Judging by the Master's expression, which had finally stopped being an impassive mask, Telliko had passed all bounds. Apparently he wasn't used to being contradicted, especially by some snotty provincial girl. She had a feeling he might start throwing daggers at her. Telli began to pluck at her tunic's hem behind her back. She was glad the hologram was so small – just a meter high. If he towered over her… 

"Knight Kenobi must return to Coruscant immediately." His voice was laced with icy chill. 

"In no way!" She didn't notice as she got angry. "Do you have no sense at all? He needs his break, and you're going to give him a mission or something…" 

Was it her imagination or did she truly hear that chuckle, coming from the other side of transmission? Windu threw her a glare that almost made her step back. 

"All right, he has a week." 

The hologram went off abruptly. Had she really won? Telliko looked around and found the smiling eyes of Sadagail. It seemed so. 

*********** ********** 

"Are you sure it is right to let him stay there?" The not-so-very-pleased Mace Windu turned away from the comm. unit to regard Yoda who sat on a mat next to him. 

The green Master seemed to be pleased, though his posture – hands folded on the top of his ever-present gimer stick, his chin resting on them – showed nothing of his amusement. But Mace knew him all too well to miss that particular sparkle in the large greenish yellow eyes. Besides he had heard the chuckle that the other had made no attempt to cover. 

"Right that girl is, rest he needs," Yoda said in his usual rustling voice. "And let him rest we shall." 

"Why did we call him back at all, then?" the swarthy Master enquired, lowering himself onto the blue mat and crossing his legs. 

"A disturbance I sense. Sith that might be." Yoda paused, then finished almost as an afterthought, "Or might not." 

Mace stapled his fingers together. He had sensed something as well, but it had been so vague, unfocused that he could neither determine what it was nor pinpoint its location. 

"Do you know of its origins?" he asked the older Jedi. 

The pointed ears twitched slightly as though antennas, searching for the right sequence. 

"On Coruscant it is, hmm," Yoda said slowly. "Sector Z-tan." 

"You are so certain?" Mace raised the surprised eyes at his counterpart, but the other's eyes were closed. "I think this means we should send someone to investigate…" 

Getting no response Windu picked a data-pad and scanned the records. His brows furred in a frown. 

"We don't have many capable Jedi at the Temple right now." Flipping through a few more pages he finally stopped. "I think Knight Balan-Tar will do fine. He has been knighted just a month ago but he seems to be capable of an investigation even if it leads him to lower levels." 

"Send him," Yoda grumbled. 

The younger Master got up to leave the room but paused at the door. 

"If you thought we can send someone else why did you have me call Kenobi?" he asked suspiciously. 

"To know how he is doing I wanted." 

Mace shook his head: either there was something he overlooked or Yoda was starting to live out of his mind. 

*********** ********** 


	11. Chapter 11

Sorry it took this long to get this chapter up. Darth Real Life has declared a war.

Thanks for reading, **Eleia Kenobi**.

**Athena**. Yes, Mace yelled at is a rather nice and funny thing ;-)

Thank you, **Farore**. And Obi's awake.

********** ***********

Jango sat in an admittedly comfortable white smooth chair, thinking. The room that was now his own was almost bare, featureless – scarce furniture made nothing to bring visual comfort or a sense of coziness and home. The room was in perfect order, which could hardly be said about the man's thoughts, disarrayed at best. 

He had been brought to the Prime Minister Lama Su and finally told what he was there for. And that was the biggest problem – he could not in his wildest dreams imagine what had been presented before him as the near-future reality. 

He had been prepared to give his DNA for cloning as he had been told by Tyrannus. He was prepared to the idea of a dozen people, his identical copies, being brought to life by these frail snake-like creatures. But he was not prepared to become a source for an army. 

His mind was rattled even further as he had been given a quick round-up tour around the cloning factory. He had been humbled and awed by the scale of what these delicate, peculiar creatures were about to do.

Empty tanks for the clones – mercilessly spotlit glass containers, pristine and terrifying in their spiritless clarity – still stood before his eyes, troubling his thoughts like drops of rain trouble water. He imagined thousands, hundreds of thousands of himself stored into those containers, looking at the world with lackluster eyes of a zombie, and shivers shook him, though they had nothing to do with the room's temperature.

To distract himself from the horrendous vision his running excessively high imagination showed him, Jango started to think about what was the light side of the situation – the money. 

They had led him to a computer terminal and had given him the number of account opened especially for him. When he had seen the sum of money on that account he had been hard pressed not to start dancing with joy, ridiculous as it might seem. It was more than he could ever hope for!

With slightly trembling fingers he had quickly transferred the money to another account – just in case – and then learned that it was only the half in advance. Trying hard to hide his elation and at the same time overcoming the repulsive taste discussing such matters left in his mouth he had demanded a clone for his personal use.

To his surprise – a pleasant one – the Kaminoans hadn't refused but stared to ask him 'technical' details such as desirable alterations in this particular clone. The terms they used made him sick, although he hadn't shown it either. Or at least he hoped he hadn't. At long last they had agreed to a clone with no alterations whatsoever, and Jango had breathed in relief.

On his part he had to stay on Kamino all the while they would take their samples and not leave the planet for too long a time. And that was all that was required of him!

A smile spread his lips, a smile close to both a smile of the sated predator and that of the happiest person in the galaxy. He would get everything he might want: a place to hide away from those on his tail, money and something he could never dream of – a son. 

*********** **********

Looking cautiously around Brimar entered a foul-looking café on one of Coruscant's lower levels. He had been here before and knew how to go around unnoticed, how to pretend to be one of the customers. But his keen splinted gray eyes kept stealing quick glances, cautious, alert. 

The first thing Brimar noticed entering the café was that semi-darkness reigned indoors. The room was dark even in comparison to the niggardly lit street. Lower levels never saw bright sunlight, and there was no trace of fresh air either; but the illumination of the café's interior was meager to the limit. Perhaps it was an attempt to create an intimate atmosphere, or perhaps the owner did not want the customers to watch each other – there was a dancer for watching, after all. A creature of an undefined gender, looking like a hybrid between a Twi'lek and a human – which probably it was – tried to dance on an unkempt stage.

Casting a disapproving sidelong glance at the creature on the rostrum Brimar found a free table and eased himself onto a three-legged metal stool. Putting his elbows on the tabletop he waited for his contact to come.

The music wasn't particularly entertaining, and neither was the dance of the lonely dancer. But beings never came here for a good time – and the owner seemed to be well aware of it – they came here for business. 

From his table Brimar swept the place with an appraising gaze. The room held a curious assortment of species: from Rodians to human to exotic species Brimar with all his experience could not begin to guess the names of. He thought he even saw a Toydorian waving his or her short wings somewhere in the gloomy depth of the room. It was indicative that there were no Wookies to be seen. Wookies, he recalled, were hardly ever met at such places.

But it wasn't a Wookie Brimar was about to talk to, it was an Aqualish called Kato Tran. Not a friend, just a guy Brimar had met a number of times while roaming the galaxy from the most luxurious of buildings to the run-down establishments like this one. The Aqualish claimed to have a 'curious merchandise that might bring good money'. He had refused to be more specific, saying it wouldn't do to speak about it via communicators. 

And so Brimar came to the appointed place.

A waiter – a shabby-looking droid in desperate need for lubrication, it seemed – approached his table and asked him what he wished to drink. The droid's raspy voice scratched the nerves as chalk on the glass.

Grimacing, Brimar ordered corellian brandy. Not that he was going to drink it, getting poisoned wasn't on his to-do list. The droid hobbled away to carry out the order.

An Aqualish appeared by the door, blinking his large black eyes adjusting to the darkness. He was constantly looking back and seemed to be on edge. Having finally noticed the waiting Brimar, Kato gave out a guttural grunt and wound his way to him. Looking around constantly the Aqualish reached the small table and fell onto a free chair.

"You don't look good," Brimar observed. 

The droid with a not too clean glass of brandy on a tray shambled to the table. Kato shook his head, as though driving the fog out of it. Giving a glass to the human, the droid stared at the Aqualish, obviously waiting for an order.

"Cruss juice," Kato mumbled. The droid nodded and hobbled away.

Brimar looked at the Aqualish in surprise. Cruss juice was rather strong intoxicating drink for Aqualishes. He was curious what had put Kato into such a condition. Even the fangs were trembling in the big mouth of visibly nervous Aqualish.

"Rogga the Hutt has arranged a hunt on me," Kato explained, looking around the establishment with his brilliant as black-glass spherical eyes yet again as though expecting to see said Hutt jumping out of the corner.

"Why is it all of a sudden?"

"I owe him some money. You know those Hutts…"

"And what we talked about? Do you still have it?"

The droid approached, and they broke off. Having followed the slowly moving away droid with a tense stare, Kato once again looked at the human before him.

"Yes, I still have it. Cool thing. It costs tremendous money. But I need credits right now so I'm selling it cheap. 

Brimar bent forward.

"And what exactly is it?"

"A Jedi Holocron. Ever heard of them? Ancient…"

Now this was interesting. Wherever had Kato gotten a Holocron? Brimar remembered that about a year back there had been hearsay about a Holocron on sale. It appeared that someone had been killed because of it. And then it all had abated, and the Holocron had disappeared.

"Are you sure this is a Holocron, and not a fake?" If it was in truth a Holocron, Dooku might find it useful.

"Sure, sure, have no doubt," the Aqualish chattered.

"And how much do you want for it?"

"A mere trifle: ten thousand credits. I need money, you know."

Indeed a mere trifle, of course if Kato didn't lie.

"How can I take a look at it?"

Kato leaned closer, giving out the sharp smell of cruss juice, and lowered his voice so that Brimar could barely hear him.

"It is at my apartment. We can go look…"

Maybe he wanted to add something else, but at this very moment about ten Gamorreans barged into the café, armed to the teeth. The Aqualish not too beautiful in coloring at usual time became gray and his skin went dotted with yellow spots. Furiously shaking their vibroblades the pack of Gamorreans rushed to the corner where Brimar and Kato sat. Loud shouts of horror and indignation distributed the previously quiet air of the café, but the belligerent dim-witted Gamorreans didn't care for anything, except for their target, which sat at the little table, shaking with fear.

Not losing a second Brimar bent to Kato and hissed, "Where do you live? Address!"

The scared to death Aqualish muttered, faltering, the address. The throng of Gamorreans came nearer. Not wishing to be chopped down Brimar dived into the twilight and hid behind a curtain. Of course, he pitied Kato – in some sense – but charity begins at home.

Gamorreans attacked the poor creature viciously, their battle cries drowning everything else out. Evidently, the Hutt was very angry if he had sent so many people after Kato's head. Provided, of course, that there will be a head left, which Brimar had already started to doubt.

Having finished the carnage the Gamorreans looked around greedily, probably in search of the next victim.

The next victim became a Rodian who hardly had time to give a squeak before they finished him off. Not wishing to stop on what was achieved, but not finding other victims – all the customers had long since abandoned the unfortunate café in great haste – Gamorreans inflicted a pogrom, giving out joyful hoots once in a while.

An owner appeared in the room, carrying a blaster of the improbable sizes. Bright flash lit the room, then another. Someone began to shriek. Gamorreans dashed to the exit. 

And then Brimar, who was still hidden behind the drape, noticed something that struck him unpleasantly. One of the customers had stayed in the room. And he was questioning the droid that attended to him and Kato and that hovered about their table throughout all their conversation. Most likely he had heard about the Holocron. 

Having finished his or her inquiries, the mysterious customer made his way to the exit. On the road there the figure, wrapped up in a black cloak, passed Brimar, who tried hard not to breathe lest the figure hears him. It felt like chill spread from the figure, poisoning the air. Even Brimar, who had no abilities in the Force whatsoever, felt this black cold.

The figure left the establishment, and the air seemingly became warmer. Brimar shivered slightly.

"What's that?" Brimar whispered quietly to himself. "Is it possible that Sidious has decided to come out for a walk and is now hunting for the Holocron as well? That's no good."

*********** ***********

Hot teasing sun rays tickled Obi-Wan's face, caressing his cheeks, crept under delicate amber eyelashes and straight into his dream. He moaned slightly in protest and waved his hand in the air to drive them away like annoying insects. To his astonishment his hand came to rest against something silky-soft. He jolted to awareness instantly and came face to face with smiling Telliko, his hand still lying on her shoulder.

A thought wormed its way into his mind that this was a really nice way to wake up. Though it would've been much better if she didn't sit there but rather… He jerked his gaze away from her neck and tried hard not to blush. 

"Good morning," Telliko said smiling and, he noted, making no attempt to distance herself. Her lavender dress matched her violet eyes, luminous with smile, in a strikingly lovely fashion.

"Morning," he replied in a voice still husky from prolonged sleep. 

Grudgingly Obi-Wan lifted his hand from her shoulder and brushed it through his own tousled strands as though brushing away the obstinate remnants of sleep. Telli suddenly giggled, and he threw her a confused look.

"You look so funny with that stubble of yours." 

She traced his jaw with the slender finger timidly like a gentle deer about to bolt at any sharp movement, her eyes searching his for reaction, fearing disapproval. He held his breath to not scare her away. For a long moment they stared into each other's eyes, both frozen on spot, slightly lost… 

Until a ringing young voice shattered the spell.

A sandy-haired tornado broke into the room, plopped onto the wide bed next to the amused knight and wrapped small arms around Obi-Wan's larger arm possessively, clinging to him. 

"Hello, Master," Anakin chirped happily, joy radiating from him in cascades.

"Hey there." Obi-Wan couldn't help but smile at the boy's exuberance and childish ingenuousness.

"How are you doing?" Concern flickered in the wide blue eyes.

"Oh, I'm fine." It wasn't a lie.

"Me and Dary made breakfast."

"Really?" Obi-Wan cocked an eyebrow. Since when did Anakin know how to cook? 

"Um, well… she did. But I helped."

"I'm sure you did."

"Are you going to get up?" Anakin asked with a slightest tint of worry in his voice.

"And did you buy a ticket to watch the performance?" the knight asked playfully. 

He was suddenly painfully aware that the thin silky blanket was the only thing covering his nudity. In fact it wasn't silk, the fabric was just as thin but - and Obi-Wan was very grateful for that - not as slippery. Out of the corner of his eyes he caught Telliko blushing. 

"I'll go help Dary," she said and was out of the room in a second. Obi-Wan looked after her.

"You know, they have very few droids here," Anakin said for no reason at all. 

The master looked at him in surprise. "You don't like it here?"

"Well," the boy looked at his hands. "It's nice here. And it's, uh, better than  the Temple, but…"

"But what?"

"Umm nothing." He suddenly smiled brightly. "So are you going to get up?"

"No if a certain little intruder stays here," Obi-Wan grinned.

Anakin made a show of looking around. "Who?"

"You!" Obi-Wan tickled the boy who giggled madly. "Now off with you."

Still grinning Anakin hopped down from the bed and went to the door. "Don't be long."

Instead of taking breakfast at the large dining-hall where they had had dinner – had it been only yesterday? - Telliko, Obi-Wan, Anakin and Dar'Yana settled on a vast clearing surrounded by trees and bushes.

The large hall with its tall stone walls, lancet windows and huge table seemed to be more suited for solemn meals then for the breakfast of a little amicable company. And though yesterday Telliko had said that usually everyone at the temple ate together today it turned out that it wasn't always so. 

"Well, couldn't all of them wait for you to wake up," the girl smiled when Obi-Wan asked her about this little change in traditions. "And Mato Kalia didn't allow anyone to wake you."

"So you did wait for me?"

"Of course, sleepyhead."  
  


"Don't call him that," Anakin rose to the defense of his Master.

Obi-Wan studied him carefully. The boy seemed to be happy and careless but there were anxiety, vague uneasiness and maybe even fear glancing through the already noticeably efficient disguise, which was, perhaps, the result of Anakin's upbringing in slavery, supplemented with the necessity to hide one's feelings that was a common practice among the Jedi. Anakin's fretfulness wasn't of any surprise though. Obi-Wan could recall – rather dimly – that he had fainted yesterday right in the muddle of the yard. If the boy had seen it… and even if he hadn't seen this particular moment he must have been shocked by the condition his mentor had been in.

Taking a sip of aromatic tea from a white cup, made of some semi-transparent material, Obi-Wan smiled at Anakin, showing that he was alright. The Padawan immediately cheered up visibly. Very well.

Only… was he really alright? He had some doubts about it. He would have to think it all over thoroughly but later, not now. Now he should simply relax and enjoy the lunch, which by the way turned out to be delicious. 

The favourite saying of Qui-Gon's: "Keep your mind on the here and now." Why not?

Cajoling his thoughts to stay in the present Obi-Wan looked around as though seeing their surroundings for the first time. The slightly blurred in the heat of the almost noon sun outlines of the Nardiss towers floated in the azure tranquility of the sky. Their stone walls, made of roughly polished large stones, dazzled the eyes with shining yellow. Cool shadow of a huge branchy tree protected the four people from wearisome sultriness. 

Anakin's excited voice startled Obi-Wan out of his peaceful contemplation. 

"Master, can I go with Dary?"

Obi-Wan frowned briefly. Had he missed something?

"Where are the two of you going?"

"To the river," Anakin replied matter-of-factly. 

"We will be fishing," Dar'Yana put in.

The boy shook his head in support, almost jumping with impatience. Obi-Wan smiled.

"Of course you can."

"Yipee!"

Anakin and Dary took off into the bushes. Obi-Wan set himself to the task of helping Telli gather the dishes. He didn't want to think about what he had learned yesterday, needing the thoughts to rearrange themselves in his head, to gain some focus lest he go insane. And doing such a simple every-day job suddenly seemed a very good way to keep his mind on the present. 

Having finished their work Telliko and Obi-Wan left the package with dishes and walked to the river in amicable silence. The river wasn't far; its waters filled the environment with silver ringing of flowing water and sonorous rustling of dappled gravel.

Passing the last line of the trees Obi-Wan and Telliko came out onto the sandy bank. Telli immediately threw off her light sandals, burying her bare feet in the soft sand with visible pleasure. After a moment's hesitation the Jedi followed her example. Fine grains enveloped his feet, cuddling them in pleasant warmth. He wiggled his fingers in the delicate sand, feeling the tension start to leave his body. 

Small breeze brought with it moistness of water and smells of river, and Obi-Wan threw his head back, exposing his neck to the wind's gentle caress. Clement heat of the sun cascaded onto his face, contesting with the wind's coolness. He closed his eyes and let his feelings dissolve in the sensations. He was marginally aware of Telliko looking at him with eyes shining in the sun. 

A loud yell made Obi-Wan open his eyes and look around in search for the origins of the shrill sound. 

"Master, look!"

Anakin dived out of the nearby bushes and ran forward, raising clouds of sand. He stopped next to Obi-Wan, slightly out of breath.

"Look!" he repeated. "It looks like a Hutt!"

Obi-Wan gave him a puzzled look. He had no idea what could possibly look like a Hutt on this planet. The boy reached out his hand, opening the fingers that had been clutched tightly but carefully. On the small boy's palm a tadpole was lying, its black backside glistening in the sun.

~Maybe I need to take him out to nature more often?~ Obi-Wan thought, looking at the little creature and Anakin's excited face.

********** **********

********** **********


	12. Chapter 12

Thanks, **Athena** :)

Thank you, **Eleia Kenobi**. Well, here it is.

Thanks, **Farore**. Yes, actually the Holocron idea came from that book. I needed something to tie the pieces together, and Holocron came in handy.

************ ************

The doors to the now deserted and that's why even more shabby-looking café slid to the sides with a distinguishable creak letting a young Ishi Tib in. The green alien was rather tall for his species and had to duck his head to avoid hitting it against a loose beam hanging from the ceiling. His large bulbous dark yellow eyes darted around the filthy interior that was scarcely lit by a dozen or so dull glow-rods. It was obvious that the new arrival wasn't too comfortable being here. 

"We are closed! Can't you read?" the owner grumbled loudly. 

He wasn't in a good mood since he had been trying for ten minutes already to bring some semblance of order into the café. A dozen of little droids that rushed about with rattles and squeaks was supposed to help him in this tedious task, but their disarranged actions didn't seem to have visible effect.

Not paying any attention to the grumbling owner's words the alien slowly walked inside. The owner raised his eyes at him, intending to pour his irritation over the intruder, but the words never left his mouth as he took a closer look at the visitor. The Ishi Tib was dressed in easily recognizable beige tunic and pants and long brown cloak. This attire could only belong to… The metal tube that could only be a lightsaber, hanging from the visitor's belt, persuaded the owner that it was indeed a Jedi.

"What can I do for you?" the owner asked much more politely with a hint of ingratiation. He had no desire to go against a Jedi.

"What has happened here?"

"Oh, nothing special," the owner shrugged. "Lower levels, you know."

"Of course."

The newly knighted Balan-Tar was at the lower levels of Coruscant for the first time in his life and was deeply unsettled by what he had seen on the streets. The sight of carnage here didn't soothe him either. But he tried hard to act like an experienced Jedi not showing his discomfort. The Force had brought him here, and he was trying to figure out why. Balan-Tar stared at the owner silently waiting if it makes the other talk. And it did. 

The owner seemed to be self-conscious. Finally he stuttered, "An Aqualish…"  
  


The Jedi nodded.

"He… he wanted to sell a Holocron to a human."

"A Holocron?!"

"Umm yes. The Jedi Holocron." 

"And?" Balan-Tar prodded. 

"I'm afraid he was killed. Gamorreans…"

"And what about Holocron?"

The Jedi leaned forward impatiently. If he found this Holocron and brought it to the Council… His eyes sparkled. This was his chance, his chance to prove himself! To prove he wasn't just an average Jedi among the mass of those like him. They would notice him…

"Holocron? Well, he didn't have it with him." The owner lowered his voice to a whisper. "I heard him telling that human that he had the Holocron in his quarters."  
  


This seemed suspicious to Ishi Tib.

"How did you manage to hear it? Were you there constantly?"

"Ah, khm… I… well, not quite." The owner was obviously nervous. "One of my waiters heard it. Yes, and I heard him telling this to another."

"Who was that another?"

"I don't really know. He came when the fight was over already. He talked to the waiter, then left. The waiter gave him the address."

"Which is?.."

"For a certain fee…"

Blast! Balan-Tar fished in his pockets. Good thing his former Master had warned him he might need money. Finding a few credits he passed them to the owner whose eyes shone with greed. 

"So?"

The owner gave him the address, and the Jedi departed, leaving the owner to continue his cleaning.

************ ***********

Having left the transport that had brought her to Borleas – one of the larger Coruscant's moons – Nais had borrowed a small one-man passenger ship. After an hour of piloting she had landed her ship on a rather barren gray rocky plane before a huge polished metal dome shining blindingly under the unveiled sun. The place seemed cold and bleak, harsh. This wasn't even a moon – just an asteroid with stable rotation cycle and thin atmosphere, not nearly enough for breathing. 

Once again – as she always did – Nais wondered how could anyone live here. With a sigh she pulled a breathing mask over her face and stepped onto the colorless gritty surface. Several steps brought her right up to the shining dome's wall. Touching a barely visible lump with enclosed in black leather glove hand Nais waited. 

Two parts of a door slid apart diagonally – one to the upper left corner, the other to the down right – revealing a cubical room. The woman stepped onto the polished metal floor, and the doors noiselessly slid shut behind her. Air flowered into the room from invisible vents with swooshing sound, almost bubbling. Nais took off the breathing mask and breathed the fresh air in hungrily. She tucked the mask into a small pouch on her belt and stretched. After being locked first in the overcrowded passenger transport and then in cramped one-man ship being able to stretch seemed an incredible luxury.

The doors before her slid apart, and she stepped into another room – or another universe, it might seem. A beautiful garden was laid out before her eyes. Tidy gravel path ran from under her feet to a large house in the bright, filled with sweet fragrances depth of the garden. It was so quiet and peaceful – the whole universe away from the physical and mental pollution of Coruscant. How could she ever consider this a prison? What had possessed her to run away? She had wanted to know what the life outside these shining walls was like. Oh, she learned that! A bitter smile distorted her face. 

This was the paradise she had spent her childhood in – the paradise she never let herself think about. Sidious would never let her leave him…

An elderly woman was waiting for Nais on a latticed white porch. She might have been beautiful once, but there was nothing left of that beauty now. Time turned her into an old thin woman with lined face and kind pale blue eyes. The woman smiled warmly, showing small dapples on her cheeks and fine tracery of wrinkles around her eyes. Nais smiled back with an unexpectedly sincere smile. The two walked inside the building in comfortable silence. 

It felt like home here. Nais didn't need to be guided – she knew every inch of this house since the early childhood. Thick carpet softened their footsteps. The carpet was blue like midday sky – when walking on it she had imagined she had been walking the heavens…

A sunlit terrace opened up before them. Artificial sun, of course, but it was better than nothing. Still in silence the two women lowered themselves into light woven chairs. 

"You've changed," the older of the two noted. 

"So I did, Anadel."

"What brings you here, child?" 

Nais hated to be called child but she knew she would always be one for Anadel.

"I need your advice and possibly help."

"You need help of the old witch?" Anadel shook her head sadly. "What have you gotten yourself into this time?"

Justified question.

"You know, I want to destroy that monster." Her eyes blazed, then dulled. "And you know I have nowhere near enough power to do so. But… I found something that might… might help me destroy him."

"Which is?"

"His son."

An oppressive thoughtful pause filled the air.

"And you think a son would want to destroy his own father?"

"He's not some guy from the street, he's a Jedi. And not just any Jedi. He's the one who killed Maul last year. Palpatine hates him for killing his apprentice. I think Kenobi hates him too. I heard Maul killed his teacher."

The older woman seemed to be in thought, "Perhaps, perhaps. So you've found Palpatine's possible weakness."

"Weakness? I don't know… The only thing he cares about is power. I don't think having a son would make any difference."

"He's not a machine, darling…"

"Oh, but he is! He's not even human. He… he's a monster, a horrendous beast! He is not capable of love!"

"I heard he had a wife once. It was rumored that she and their baby had died in a crash years ago."

"Apparently not." Nais paused. How she wanted to believe he had weaknesses! If only one small weakness for her to get to him. "Do you think he loved her?" Hope bled into her voice.

"You're asking me what I don't know. Perhaps, even his heart once knew love… So, how can I help you?"

"You can see future, I know you watch the future like others watch HoloNet. Tell me what do you see in the future? Will he destroy Sidious?"

"You know that future isn't set in stone. It changes with every decision we make. A drastic step can turn everything in a completely unexpected way…"

"I know that!" Nais interrupted impatiently. "But what did you see today?"

"Well… Kenobi will be instrumental in destroying Palpatine, that's for sure. Other than that… I can't say anything specific. The time of great changes is close. There are too many possibilities."

Nais hung her head. But what had she hoped for?

"Now, what are you going to do?" Anadel asked softly, laying her hand on the shoulder of the younger woman.

"I think I need to get this Jedi on my side, but I'm not sure how."

"Perhaps you need to tell him who Palpatine is."

"Yeah, like he believes me!" Nais snorted.

"Then you need to earn his trust first."

The young woman dropped her face into her hands. "I thought about it, but it would take time. Much time And Palpatine would learn what I'm up to. And if he does I'm in the biggest poodoo in my life."

Anadel smiled, "Well, this is something I can help you with. I'm not a witch for nothing, after all. I'll build you some shields. Even he with all his notorious Force and such won't be able to break through them."

"Why didn't you do it earlier? I never wanted him read my mind."  
  


"It's not a pleasant thing, believe me. You still can refuse."

"No." Stubbornness shone in black eyes. "Do it."

************ ***********

Evening fell discreetly, bathing the streets in deep inky shadow. Chill surges of air picked up, eager to steal warmth from battered pavement and forlorn bodies of the lonely passers-by. Night slithered slowly over the tall buildings, consuming what meager light the lower levels retained. 

A lonesome figure walked the street in haste, sharp sound of footsteps ripping through darkness being the only noise breaking the dead silence. A grey building, touching the skies as though wholeheartedly zealous to break free of the lower levels, loomed before the man. Pausing momentarily to look over the murky structure's surface where no windows glowed, Brimar opened the heavy rusty metal door and entered. Stale humid gloom encompassed him immediately. It was much colder here than out in the street, and the man shivered slightly tugging at the edges of his brown coat. 

Cautiously Brimar turned on the small glow-rod he had brought with him providently in order to see anything in the pitch-dark of the staircase. Shadows shifted, and even his heart, accustomed to adventures and less than safe places, skipped a bit. 

Trying to be as noiseless as possible so as not to intrude upon the shady realm Brimar crept up the stairs, his glow-rod casting eerie blue light over the filthy walls and littered with garbage floor. Something rushed under his feet with piercing screech. He froze listening. Nothing. Silence. Taking a deep calming breath he proceeded on his way. 

On the fourth floor the darkness ended abruptly, leaving him blinking. His eyes adapted to light, he extinguished the glow-rod and looked around carefully. The stairs definitely looked better in darkness, he observed. Dented walls were covered with offensive and sometimes mysterious inscriptions. Small windows were calked, letting no light seep out of the edifice. No one but himself broke the stair's solitude. 

That was definitely good. Hurry! He must speed up. He must be there first. He must leave Sidious behind.

Brimar searched the numbers on the stained doors that had long since lost their original colours, assuming uncertain brownish-grey tint instead. Finding the number he needed Brimar paused, examining the door. No obvious traces of breaking in were present, but that didn't really say anything. With a firm hand he pressed a button, which elicited low nerve-racking buzz. 

Nothing. He strained listening. Silence. Was he late? He pushed the button once again.

Quiet rustle. Light footsteps padded to the door. 

"Who're ya?" a thin, somewhat distorted voice inquired through the closed door.

About time! "I'm a friend of Kato's."

The door started to open slowly, unsurely. Brimar shifted from one foot to another in impatience. He had no time to waste, running against the Sith Lord. On the other hand, if he acted too hastily he might lose everything, so he let whoever was behind the door study him through the tiny crack. But waiting was so agonizing hard! Finally after what seemed like eternity the door opened completely, revealing a skinny wide-eyed human girl no more than eleven years old by appearance.

"Hello. May I come in?"

"Hi." The girl shifted to let him pass. "Whatsa yar name?"

"Bri." Once inside he swept the room with one glance. 

A lonely dull glow-rod under the ceiling didn't give off much light, casting blurred spots of illumination over the furniture, old and tattered. The apartment held a tiny hall that ended with a doorframe, though there was no door in sight – whatever had happened to it. A slightly larger room behind the doorframe resembled stockroom of a junkman. Judging from smells of burnt food there was also a kitchen somewhere in the apartment, and though Brimar couldn't see it from where he stood he had a fair idea of what it looked like.

The girl wrinkled her snub nose in thought. "Good name," she finally uttered.

"Yeah." Brimar looked the room over with an experienced gaze, noticing every minuscule detail that might be of any use in his search. Nothing came up. Where could Kato keep the Holocron?

The girl twisted a lock of greasy hair of unidentifiable colour around her finger, looking up at the man with curiosity. She didn't seem to be afraid of the lanky human. But, on the other hand, her naive eyes suggested she wasn't really aware there might be something to be afraid of at all. 

Where? Where? Where?!

Huge blue eyes followed Brimar as he paced the small room in thought. Suddenly his steel-coloured eyes turned to the child. The man squatted before her, brushing away tousled dark-blond hair that fell on his forehead.

"There is a thing Kato keeps. A stone, beautiful, about this large," he showed with two fingers. He tried to speak gently so as not to scare her off but he was grimacing inwardly.

The girl watched him in concentration. Then recognition flared in her eyes, lighting them a startling electric. 

"I know! Pretty brick. But Niamo took it." 

"Who's Niamo?"

"Friend." She put a finger into her mouth in such a childish gesture that Brimar flinched.

"And where does Niamo live?"

She cocked her head to the side as though asking if he was trustworthy. Brimar nodded. The girl made him uneasy. True, he never felt comfortable around children. But this one gave him creeps.

"He live two," she held up two fingers as if doubting she said the number right, "two blocks from here. Big shop wid glowing dolls."

"Thank you." The man stood up abruptly. He walked hastily to the door and was about to exit when a thought struck him. He froze as though he had run into a wall. Slowly he turned around and looked once again at the girl who still stood in the middle of the room. 

He had to kill her.

The thought molded into an icy knot in the pit of his stomach.

The child looked at him with innocent trust that he could do her no harm. But he knew he couldn't leave a witness, he must not!

But…

He clenched his fists. If he left her alive Sidious would come and learn where to continue, no doubt of that.

Then again, if he killed the girl now Sidious most likely would learn anyway. Being friends with Dooku had taught Brimar that Force-sensitives had abilities far surpassing those of common mortals. 

Such an obstacle wouldn't hinder the Sith Lord. Thus only a matter of morals remained.

Morals! Brimar snorted loudly, startling the girl. Being for the best half of his life on the wrong side of law he had no trouble killing someone. Anyone. 

So why was he having trouble now?

His hand strayed to the holster that held a blaster hooked to his thigh. Take it out and shoot? So easy! Then why couldn't he?

Her wide energetic eyes pulled him as magnets. He couldn't break the eye-contact. His hand wavered, then let go of the blaster handle. He turned away abruptly, ashamed. Embarrassed that he couldn't kill her. Without another thought he left, banging the door.

*********** **********


	13. Chapter 13

Thank you, Athena, Farore.   
  
********** **********  
  
Night had stolen the last remnants of light from the lower levels of Coruscant when Balan-Tar approached the building where he might find the Holocron and possibly the mysterious person the cafe owner had spoken about. The air was soaked with chill, but the young knight felt none of it as adrenalin surged through his veins in faintly nervous anticipation.   
  
His hands trembled slightly in near-excitement as he opened the rusty door. Stuffed gloom washed over him. A frisson of fear touched him ever so lightly, but he banished it hastily, never stopping to think if it was his fear or just probably someone else's. He scanned the obscure staircase with the Force and finding no threat present stepped inside.   
  
He blinked, but it didn't help him see any better, and he regretted not bringing any kind of glow-rod with him. But how was he supposed to know he would need it? Though his Master - his former Master - always seemed to know what they might need beforehand. That, he supposed, was experience. Well, he would get it in time. And now he would keep on with his mission. He contemplated turning on his lightsaber and using it as a source of light but upon better thinking discarded the idea. He would only give out his location and blind himself with the light so close.  
  
The Ishi Tib made a few careful steps, stretching out with the Force. Disgusting stink reached his nostrils and distracted the young knight for only a split second, but it was enough... Taking another step Balan-Tar tripped over something and promptly crashed to the filthy floor barely holding in a yelp of surprise. His hands landed onto the stairs, supporting his body, but the palms sunk into something glutinous.   
  
What he had tripped over was simply the first of the stairs as he ascertained a moment later. He stood up and searched for something to mop his hands with, grimacing in disgust. Groping for a shred of cloth he wiped his hands, hoping the rag wasn't even dirtier.   
  
Creeping shadows pressed down on him as he straightened, and he hurried up the stairs as fast as his Force-senses would allow him 'see'. A few minutes later he stopped, slightly out of breath as sudden light assaulted his eyes with intolerable brightness. His eyes adjusted quickly though, and he looked around, resisting the strong urge to close them again and pretend there was still no light.   
  
The dirty staircase was in such stark contrast with the cultured purity of the Jedi Temple it made him uneasy. How could a sentient being live in such a mess? Balan-Tar didn't belong here, and he was suddenly grateful that he never had.   
  
This was another world, mere miles away from the sparkling with cleanness and wealth upper levels and strict, enigmatic Jedi Temple. This world was alien for him, it had different rules and laws, different purposes. Acute longing to be back in the world he belonged to pierced the young knight's heart with ache so deep he newer knew possible. And his being here alone only made it worse.  
  
But he was here, the Jedi cut his musings off abruptly afraid they would get too deep. He had work to do and he needed to act if he was ever going to move anywhere and learn anything. There would be time for reflection - later.   
  
With the new, though already dimming, determination the Ishi Tib searched the row of doors for the number he needed. Finding it he frowned. The door was closed but not quite. A small creak showered that it wasn't locked. Cautiously he opened the door. Stretching out the invisible fingers of the Force he sifted through the apartment as he had been taught.   
  
Squirming chill crawled down his spine, and he froze struck by tidal wave of dread that rolled over him. Death. Death had happened here, no more than ten minutes ago. But not just death - it was murder. Remainders of it swirled in the Force, troubling it, colouring it painful scarlet.   
  
And yet there was something more. Something less obvious, more illusive. Something dark.  
  
His legs trembling Balan-Tar made his way inside. The danger was gone, the Force told him, but darkness remained like stains on the clear fabric of the Force. The room he observed, standing in the hall, due to the absence of any shroud between the two parts of the apartment was a picture of such utter disorder that he could barely believe his eyes. Yet even he knew the disorder was natural - there were no traces of struggle or search. He had never thought possible an inhabited place to look like this. And still it did.  
  
The place did not only look awful, it also smelled. Cooled odor of burnt food hang in the air, flowing around the room carried by almost non-existent surges of air. Foul stench of the staircase had crept into the apartment through the open door, fighting for its place in the stale air. Yet there was a note of something different, something as foreign here as flowers on Hoth. A tint of fragrance brought in spicy freshness. Perfume. Female perfume. Balan-Tar shook his head in wonder but forgot all about it as he proceeded from the narrow hall into the room.   
  
The knight's eyes traveled over the variety of items to fall upon the lonely occupant of the room - a beheaded body. Breath caught in his throat, and he sucked the air in sharply. A girl, a little human girl was lying sprawled on the floor. Dead. Her head, cleanly cleaved from her neck lay next to the tiny body. Sightless glazed-over eyes looked at the young knight with something akin to reproach. Balan-Tar shifted slightly, and the eyes' expression shifted also, leaving them staring through the Jedi and into eternity. The knight leaned heavily against the doorframe, sick, unable to tear his gaze away from those empty eyes.   
  
Time soundlessly passed - seconds or hours, he didn't know nor did he care.  
  
A sharp sound came from the street, shattering the ominous spell of death that hovered in the room. Balan-Tar shook his head as though rising from deep leaden slumber. He picked his comlink and punched in the code with shaking fingers. He had to do it twice before he managed to enter the code correctly.  
  
"Yes," the urgent, devoid of any emotion voice of Mace Windu came through the slight crackling of static.  
  
The young knight outlined the situation, trying hard to keep his tone business-like and his manner strict, leaving out all the emotions that still boiled inside him. The Master listened to the report in grave silence.  
  
"I sense the presence of a darksider here," Balan-Tar finished.  
  
Windu was quick to give orders, "Get out of there and return to the Temple immediately. Your mission is over. Windu out."  
  
~Over?!~ A bitter resentment rose in him. ~But I didn't do anything yet! I've only found a dead girl. It's not fair! I can do much more. I can trace the darksider and bring him to the Council. Yes, and they will see how good I am!~  
  
Balan-Tar left the apartment and paced the staircase in growing excitement. Suddenly something occurred to him, and he halted in mid-step frowning.  
  
~What if I can't defeat this darksider? What if I am not good enough?~   
  
He looked at the wall as though searching for answers there. But he only saw an indecent word scribbled on filthy surface.   
  
~But if Kenobi could kill a Sith being a mere Padawan, surely I can defeat a darksider.~  
  
He straightened, assuming a classic Jedi posture with his hands draped over his chest.  
  
~Of course, I will bring this darksider - whoever he is - and the Holocron to the Council. And success is never blamed. They'll forgive me my disobedience when I come back with my trophies.~  
  
With that he took off down the stairs.  
  
*********** **********  
  
"Trouble I sense," Yoda shook his head sadly, his citrus eyes fixed somewhere on the end of his cane. "Too reckless young Balan-Tar is."  
  
"I gave him strict order. He will return to the Temple," Mace disagreed.  
  
"So sure are you?"  
  
Green eyes finally moved away from the cane to fix their gaze on Mace. The gaze seemed to burn through any barrier the younger Jedi might have put up to look straight into his soul. The power those eyes held was almost more than Windu could stand. He cleared his throat but not finding a suitable answer the swarthy Master chose to change the subject.  
  
"If Knight Balan-Tar correct it could be the work of the Sith. The second one. And only Kenobi can tell for sure. We need to summon him now."  
  
He looked expectantly at his counterpart, waiting for the diminutive Master's reaction. Yoda inclined his head in silent assent.   
  
*********** **********  
  
That day Obi-Wan informed his Padawan that they were to return to the Jedi Temple immediately as was Master Windu's order. The knight had been given no information as to what all the urgency was about and so he could not give any explanation to the immediately saddened boy - though the usually dead-calm councilor's nervousness and discontent hadn't gone unnoticed, giving Obi-Wan a fair idea that it was indeed something out of ordinary. Anakin met the request with displeasure he made no attempt to hide or even disguise in the slightest.   
  
The boy put his puffy lips into a half-pout and looked up at Obi-Wan with wide begging eyes. Obi-Wan was loath to see such a distraught look on his Padawan's face. Anakin's expression, though, quickly switched to mild surprise as he suddenly found himself in his Master's strong arms. The man rarely hugged him, and Anakin was slightly stunned in the face of this show of affection.   
  
"I'm sorry, Anakin, that we have to leave now." Obi-Wan now held the boy at an arm's length, looking directly into his eyes. "I know you like it here and I promise we will come back as soon as we have some time off."  
  
Anakin's bewilderment grew, and he swallowed around a lump in his throat. The gentleness of the voice, the kindness in those eyes were almost like Qui-Gon's. And suddenly as the feelings flooded him, Anakin hugged the older Jedi tightly. The bond between the two Jedi soared to the heights unknown to it before.  
  
The tender moment didn't last long - as everything wonderful in this life - but this was one of those moments Anakin would treasure for the long years to come.  
  
"Now," Obi-Wan nudged the boy. "Go pack your things."  
  
Dar'Yana showed at the door, obviously unhappy. She didn't hesitate to voice the reason of her unhappiness.  
  
"So, you're leaving? That dumb Master 'I-am-the-ruler-of-everything' made you go after all?"  
  
Obi-Wan frowned at her. It won't do to address the Council member like that, especially in front of Anakin. Never mind that his own opinion of the venerable Jedi Master treaded the same areas, though sometimes leaning treacherously close to a more rude definition.   
  
But the girl didn't seem to be fazed by his frown as she grabbed Anakin's hand. She whispered something to the boy, and a huge grin spread on his face. Obi-Wan only shook his head.  
  
Anakin had become good friends with Dary over the past few days, and the two had spent most of the time together near the river swimming, fishing and Force knows doing what else. It never ceased to amaze Obi-Wan how the boy seemed to be drawn to water. He who had been born on Tatooine where water was as rare as birds on Coruscant, he who had been scared out of his mind when Bant had splashed some water onto him in the Temple Gardens, the apprentice had spent these last days virtually soaked in water all the time.  
  
Trusting that the Padawan would get himself ready in time Obi-Wan went to pack his own things - which proved to be rather few. Having finished with that in a matter of minutes he went to say farewell to everyone he had gotten to know during their short stay.   
  
Sadagail, whom he found reading an ancient manuscript, bid him good luck with a warm smile.   
  
"Know this," she said in a way of parting words, "whenever you need help or refuge, or just a quiet place to stay you are a welcome guest here."  
  
Her eyes sought his and seized them in a magnetic lock before she buried herself in her manuscript once again, waving at him to get out.  
  
Others were friendly and saddened by his and Anakin's departure, and Obi-Wan felt warmth well in his heart.   
  
The sun had just risen over Nardiss, washing the tall yellow-stone towers in lavender and gold. The morning fresh air was filled with birds' melodious singing and gentle rustling of trees. The river seemed to say good-bye, touching the people's faces with humid surges of air as the two Jedi started on their way back to Nartala spaceport. Both Telliko and Dar'Yana offered to walk them to the town. And now the four of them were walking the ground road in comfortable silence.  
  
Obi-Wan breathed in the crisp, full of sweet flower fragrance air, trying to seize the moment, to memorize the feeling of this land - the land that was remotely a part of him. Although he hadn't ever give much to blood relations, or anything concerning these relations, he now felt himself connected to these fields and forests in a way he never felt before. Perhaps, he decided, there was such a thing as genetic memory after all.   
  
He looked at Telliko who was walking quietly beside him and was struck by how her simple yet exquisite beauty appeared to be in harmony with the nature all around. She was truly the daughter of this land, he suddenly thought. What surprised him even more, though, wasn't coming from what lay around but rather from the inside of him. A feeling rose inside him, a vague tremulous growing wish - a desire to see her again, to not leave her now.   
  
The thought was so unexpected, so abrupt in its growth that his steps faltered for a second. Anakin shot his Master a curious glance which Obi-Wan chose to ignore. This was something new.  
  
He had had a few crushes in a course of his life, of course, but seeing as Padawans weren't allowed to indulge into such affairs, needing to concentrate on their training instead, it hadn't ever gone anywhere - it could never go anywhere under the watchful eye of Qui-Gon Jinn. But now... Now everything was different. With gaining the status of a Jedi Knight he had also gained an official ability to marry should he desire. And it was suddenly unsettling - very unsettling. He had not considered it before. More, he had forgotten about such a possibility entirely.  
  
Thrown off balance, Obi-Wan took a deep breath in an attempt to clear his mind. He examined his feelings carefully, needing to determine if it wasn't simply a spell of the moment. He studied himself meticulously from the outside. And found that what he felt had been slowly developing for some time now.   
  
All those soft-voiced talks under the tall leaning trees at the river when breeze threw fine droplets of water into their faces, covering their skin with a finest sheen of pearly glittering beads. All those open-air meals, filled with tasty foods and merry laughter. Occasional brushing of hands... How could he not notice it earlier?  
  
~Good going, Kenobi!~  
  
Had he been so preoccupied with himself that he missed what had been right under his nose?   
  
Lost in his reverie Obi-Wan didn't notice as the ground path gave way to paved streets of Nartala. Anakin was discussing something with Dary animatedly. The spaceport's tall building loomed ahead, towering over the surrounding buildings like a tree over bushes.   
  
A few minutes later they entered the spaceport's building. Dar'Yana immediately offered to go get tickets for them and left, dragging Anakin with her into the crowd. Obi-Wan and Telliko were left alone in a somewhat secluded corner.  
  
A feeling of moment rose in Obi-Wan. This was it. Time to choose. Time to act or leave it forever and, perhaps, torture himself with what-ifs for the rest of his life. He looked at the girl - no the young woman - next to him. She wasn't looking at him, but as if sensing his gaze upon her raised her eyes to meet his. Aquamarine eyes locked with violet ones in a deep gaze conveying questions and hopes, uncertainty and wishes...  
  
The spaceport's large hall, its metal walls and stands, the bustling crowd shifted to the background, Telliko's lovely face filling Obi-Wan's sight, capturing him. He gazed deep into her sparkling amethyst eyes searching for the same feelings that made his throat tighten...   
  
With a catch at his heart he saw a smile in her eyes. He never knew eyes could smile like that, shining with warm affection... They drew closer to each other never breaking the eye-contact. Obi-Wan felt her hand brush against his hair lightly. He put his larger hand over hers, feeling the velvet skin under his fingers and stoked her slim palm. They leaned even closer, their mouths met almost against their will.  
  
The kiss they shared was light and sweet, devoid of passion, almost innocent - almost but not quite. Their mouths tasted each other delicately, exploring, wondering...  
  
"Master!"   
  
Both Obi-Wan and Telliko jumped at the exclamation. They quickly drew back in embarrassment, girl straightening her tunic.  
  
"Ah, Anakin." The Knight cleared his throat, avoiding looking at her. "What is it?"  
  
"The ship's leaving in five minutes. We've got the last tickets."  
  
~Force hates me!~ Obi-Wan groaned inwardly. "Let's hurry up then," he said aloud, trying to keep a straight face.  
  
Anakin nodded and started to show the way. Out of the corner of his eye Obi-Wan caught a sly and disgruntled look on Dary's face.  
  
Five minutes later, hasty good-byes being said, the two Jedi found themselves seated in a transport that was bound to get them to Coruscant. Obi-Wan stared out the window, trying to quell the disappointment that surged inside him, trying to quiet his heart that was beating with a question - would he ever see her again? His heart contracted painfully at the thought that it was the end of their...   
  
He almost wished the ship would be delayed so that...  
  
So what?  
  
So that he could pursue his desires?   
  
Duty before the pleasure, he reminded himself striktly. Duty before everything. Obi-Wan turned away from the window. The transport rocked, marking the take off. Anakin scowled at the ineptness of the pilot. The spaceport fell down, drowning in greens and blues of the planet.   
  
Obi-Wan closed his eyes. They had several hours of flight ahead. Why not use it for sleeping?  
  
*********** ***********  
  
Humid forest clustered around him, welcoming him as an old friend. Obi-Wan smiled at the friendliness, touching him like the slightest of winds. Yet something... something imperceptible, hovering just beyond his senses bore a tint of aggression, of faint warning, not large enough to trigger an alarm in his mind yet but large enough to unsettle him, make his glances sharper, his movements alert.   
  
The skies above wore a striking division of shining blue framed with tree-tops, dark green foliage touched with golden sun, and of bubbling ominous raven-black thunderstorm approaching. A few feathery clouds lined the light side of the sky - the harbingers of a storm never seen before. Thick heavy air forced its way into his lungs. It was harder to breathe now, as the air seemed to have multiplied its density tenfold.   
  
He knew it was a dream. He had come here to see and he was determined to remember as much as he could because - and he harbored no doubt of that - this dream held all the answers. The Force, he reasoned, gave him this dream to provide him with knowledge he would need. But in order to get that knowledge he needed to carefully sift through the dream to find the truth behind the obscurity of visions. And so he memorized every single detail to store it into his memory and thoroughly analyze later.  
  
Silence held him in its tight embrace, but even silence was troubled. Fear floated in the air - fear of unknown and premonition of danger.   
  
And then the silence tore, and sounds filled his ears. He flinched as the deafening roar reached his ears, but it abode quickly, falling apart into ringing sounds that eventually faded into common noise of forest life. Obi-Wan sighed and wiped his forehead. He looked around once more, making the perfect mental picture for future reference when his eyes fell onto a silent figure next to him.  
  
"Anakin?"  
  
The boy tore his gaze from scrupulous contemplation of his own boots and lifted his thoughtful eyes at the older Jedi.   
  
"Hello, Master."  
  
Obi-Wan smiled, trying to guess if it was he who had placed the Padawan here, the Force or the boy himself. Relinquishing his attempts for the time being as they gave him nothing but a headache, the knight put a hand onto the boy's shoulder. Anakin smiled back, but the smile never reached his eyes. They were still serious - much too serious for a boy his age - and they held worry.   
  
"What is it?" Obi-Wan asked gently, trying to overcome the growing feeling this wasn't Anakin at all.  
  
"You're in trouble," the boy stated matter-of-factly. "Again."   
  
"Well, I suppose it's quite typical for me," Obi-Wan laughed in surprise.  
  
"Yes, it is. Still you are in danger - possibly more than usual."  
  
Obi-Wan squatted before him and looked straight into his eyes. "Then will you protect me?"  
  
"Me?!" Surprise flared in Anakin's eyes, but was quickly replaced with sadness. He averted his gaze. "No one can protect you," he said barely above a whisper.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"The danger is a part of you. The choice is yours. You fight for you."  
  
"What about you?"  
  
"I will fight for you too. But I will fight for what is mine."  
  
The conversation was making no sense to Obi-Wan, unsettling him. Perhaps the answers were here, and all he needed was to figure them out. Sometimes they seemed so close, just a moment and he would grasp them, but the moment passed, and still he grasped nothing but empty air. Frustrated he stood up.   
  
"What are we going to do now?" he asked no one in particular.  
  
The answer came from the direction he least of all expected - the skies. No, the heaven didn't fall down on him, and didn't open to pour answers he sought, but a flock of birds did fall down from seemingly nowhere to bury him in thrashing, screeching and squirming mass. Bright feathers slapped him on the face, sharp claws seemed to tear his tunic in an attempt to snatch a piece of him.   
  
The attack was so sudden, so unforeseen that he had lost an ability to move for a split second. He tried to chase the birds off, waving his arms like a windmill, but the squealing mass didn't seem to mind his actions in a tiny bit. His arms ached from colliding with the birds' compact and amazingly hard bodies.   
  
He was ready to lower his arms in defeat when suddenly a new noise cut the air. The swishing sound repeated and the birds shrieked in alarm. Next second they flew up, crying in indignation but making no efforts to return. Surprised at their sudden retreat, Obi-Wan barely had time to flinch away from a wide swing of the thick branch Anakin wielded with an unpredicted ease.   
  
"Sorry," the boy threw, driving away the last of the birds.   
  
Yet a couple of them remained. A black and a white bird lowered themselves onto each of Obi-Wan's shoulders, sinking their claws into his tunic and the skin beneath it.   
  
"Hey, get off!" Anakin cried and made an effort to drive them away as well.  
  
Obi-Wan wasn't elated at the perspective to be smacked with the stick which seemed to be rather harmful in the boy's hands so he caught the swig and took it out of Anakin's hands - ripped might be a more appropriate word since the Padawan had no desire to give up his makeshift weapon.   
  
"Stop it." The older Jedi made his voice sound stern.  
  
"But they shouldn't sit there," Anakin protested.  
  
Obi-Wan squinted at him, trying but failing to understand what had gotten into his apprentice. "What is wrong with you, Anakin? They are only birds. Let them be."  
  
The boy opened his mouth to reply when something shifted in the scene around them, in the Force itself. It was a barely perceptible shift Obi-Wan registered on the very edge of his consciousness.   
  
And then he came...  
  
The knight was convinced it was a 'he' though how he had gotten to know this he had not the barest idea. The figure before him was wrapped up in darkness as much as it was in its midnight black cloak. The only visible parts were a chin and a scornful curve of the mouth.  
  
Cold crept down Obi-Wan's spine as he studied the silent eerie figure. Knowledge flowed into his mind, and he took an involuntary step back.   
  
Because this was Darth Sidious.  
  
Standing before him.  
  
Watching him.  
  
Two eyes glowed from under the lowered hood, observing the Jedi.  
  
Should he say something to his father? Should he run? Or should he fight?  
  
"Fight?!"  
  
The word, spoken with a sneer, hung in the air between the two. Force swirled, coiling around the Sith. Then it uncoiled and lashed out at the Jedi like a whip. Anger, hatred, pain mixed in one stinging blow. Obi-Wan flinched but refused to do anything else.   
  
What should he do?  
  
Something made him look down, and he gasped slightly at the sight of not one but numerous paths running from under his feet. Choose now? But he wasn't ready!   
  
Obi-Wan looked up again, but Sidious was nowhere to be found. And the forest was now not a forest but... a Coruscant street.  
  
*********** ********** 


	14. Chapter 14

Thanks, Athena. Well, I guess you, readers, have a bit more answers than Obi does, lol. And here's some more of Obi-Wan and his perplexing dreams :)

Thank you, Eleia Kenobi.

Thank you, ewan's girl. I hope you'll stay here to read the rest.

*********** **********

The Coruscanti street Obi-Wan saw brought a vague sense of slipping familiarity, and he frowned slightly in an effort to remember. Everything – his memory, his vision, his very thoughts – seemed to be obscured by a thin almost transparent veil of dream that dimmed his senses. It hadn't surprised him when the forest around him transformed into the cityscape. The ability to be surprised had apparently abandoned him some time ago, leaving just a phantom feeling of wrongness of such a transition. The memory, the recognition evaded him, staying at the tips of his fingers. He waved his palms slightly – it was hard to move as though he was submerged into a bowl of tar.

Gray street, gray buildings. Why did Coruscant have to be so dull? Especially considering its title.

One of the birds – he had all but forgotten about them – shifted on his shoulder with a faint chatter and shook its wings. Slowly he lifted his hand and brushed the bird's silky feathers. A ghostly smile graced his lips.

A young woman came out of the building, carrying a large bag in one hand and a child in another, and Obi-Wan's head snapped up, following her with his gaze. She was throwing brief wary glances every which way, obviously being on edge. The Force had not deserted Obi-Wan even here, and he could feel the rapid waves of nervousness and… fear, terror coming from the woman. And, as everything here, she seemed familiar to the Jedi. 

Suddenly something ripped in the solid fabric of the dream, and recognition flared in his mind, bright as a nova. Tanarine! This was his mother. And the child … the child must have been him. That instant he knew what he was seeing: his mother's escape from Coruscant, escape from Sidious. The blue-eyed one-year-old who was sitting mutely in her arms turned his head and looked Obi-Wan straight in the eye. Electricity shot through the air, connecting the two. The older Obi-Wan – who had been fairly sure he was a mere observer, invisible to any of the participants – felt power burst through him in a surge. 

Breaking the eye-contact the child averted his attention to his mother, who was trying unsuccessfully to open a parked midnight-blue speeder. The shaking of her hands didn't let her put the key-card into the slot properly. Obi-Wan heard her whispering curses under her breath. The child made a burbling sound, and she cradled him closer.

"Shhh," she whispered. "Please, be quiet, little one."

The child's tiny hand grasped a lock of her hair, entwining it between his miniature fingers, but he kept silent. The key-card finally slid into the slot, and Tanarine flung the door open hastily with an audible sigh of relief. She all but threw her bag inside, then carefully placed her son onto the seat and got herself into the speeder. 

"It'll be all right," she said softly, trying to reassure herself more than her little companion, it appeared. 

The engine came to life with sated grumbling, and half a minute later the speeder shot up into the skies, guided by strong hands of the fragile woman.

Obi-Wan's sight started to lose clarity around the edges, and he rubbed his eyes. The scene blurred, dissolving into a number of hazy colorful dancing spots. He blinked to clear his vision and saw that the stage had shifted to one of Coruscant's largest spaceports.

The huge multileveled building teemed with beings scurrying back and forth in endless currents. Obi-Wan looked around, searching for Tanarine with his eyes – just how had he known she would be here? Suddenly his gaze fell over her compact figure, seemingly bent under the weight of not only her burden, but her fear. She walked with a rapid step, constantly looking back, as if she was afraid of a pursuit. Of course she was afraid of it! Obi-Wan felt his fists clench: no matter if he was a Sith or not whom should he be that his own wife was afraid of him up to such degree? Tanarine bit her lips in impatience, pushing her way through the crowd. How did she manage to drag a bag, which obviously weighed quite a bit, and the child at the same time, Obi-Wan had no idea.

A Rodian stopped in her way, and she cried out faintly from unexpectedness. It seemed she suspected everyone that they were spying for Sidious. Who was he, after all? How had he managed to receive so much authority that his informants darted about absolutely everywhere?

It appeared the answer to this question was directly under his nose. If he could only recollect why the building, so hastily abandoned by Tanarine, seemed so familiar! But memory refused to serve, forcing him to wrinkle his forehead and to bite his lips – just as Tanarine did. 

She had slipped past him, and again he had felt a magnetic look of the child. It seemed, the baby knew that he was here whereas nobody else noticed his presence. Having given in to a momentary impulse – or maybe, to a call of intuition – Obi-Wan went after the escaping woman. 

She had already had time to buy tickets when he caught up with her. They embarked the transport together though to his frustration he could not even touch her. Now he felt like a phantom as they were described by various authors in a variety of books about life after death – though he had always considered ghosts the figments of imagination of excited mystics. 

Tanarine found a seat in a corner, whether intuitively or intentionally having chosen a place with the best field of vision. The child had moved onto her lap, and she sang lullabies to him in a hushed voice, rocking him gently. The bag laid in the next seat. The ship's departure was declared in three minutes through intercom. Tanarine clung to a viewport as though looking for someone.

Obi-Wan stood inches away from her, towering over the sitting woman, and watched. He was content with simply watching her – at least watching, though he would give much to touch her, to talk to her. But her eyes were sliding over the crowd outside, alert, scared. She would not see him. She would never know…

He had a feeling – perhaps coming from his own desire for it to be that way – that it wasn't she in his dream, but rather he had been there during her escape. The feeling was irrational, absolutely baseless, yet he didn't let go of it – could not.

At last, the take-off was declared, and only then did Tanarine heave a barely audible sigh of relief. Absentmindedly she stroked the golden hair of her son.

"Now all will be good. Now he will not catch us," she whispered. 

The child gurgled in an answer, and she smiled at him.

"No, no, he can't feel us. Even he can not. Even he… You and me, we are special – you are much more special than I am. But he can not, no. On my planet everyone has a gift: when we are far, we cannot be felt through this Force of his. He will never find us … we shall go far, far away. So far that even his long hands will not reach us, right?" She bent over the infant and tickled his nose gently.

Ah, so this was why he could not find her in the Force, even when she had still been alive, though he had easily found Owen and his father… Wait! Obi-Wan's innards grew cold, and his heart hammered uneasily in his chest. Slowly, cautiously he began to recollect. He had reached out to his father, thinking that it had been Parel. But it had been Sidious. It meant that cold he had felt then … If such coldness spread from him even at such distance how did one feel in his company?

And how could the Jedi overlook such powerful, overwhelming, chilling presence in the Force?

Contours of the passengers, talking carefree among themselves, smeared, and when the irritating fuzziness was gone Obi-Wan saw not the ship but a very familiar spaceport – in a second he recognized Nartala. Some time had obviously passed because Tanarine now wore different clothes, and both the child and the bag had exchanged places in her arms. 

She looked back again. Obi-Wan's heart shrank – she would spend the rest of her life, constantly looking back, in unceasing fear.

Someone's salutatory exclamation suddenly rang out over the hubbub of crowd. Tanarine turned back sharply, Obi-Wan followed her with his eyes. A young man who seemed rather familiar to Obi-Wan was approaching them. What kind of dream was this where everything seems familiar, but he could recognize virtually nothing? The light bewilderment reflected on Tanarine's face, quickly replaced by surprise.

"Parel?!" She called out.

"Alionna! There you are! What are you doing here? I thought you've left for capital with that guy, what was his name… "

"I have…" Tanarine lowered her head. 

"Then what are you doing here? Alone and with the child and things. "

"I… ran away. Parel, I don't want… I can't…" Despair twisted her features. It seemed, she was ready to break into tears. 

Parel's simple and kind face expressed confusion.

"And where are you going?"

"Anywhere, just away. I have already bought the ticket to Corellia… my flight is 587-TH."

"Maybe, you would rather go with me?" Obi-Wan saw aspiration mixed with hopelessness on Parel's open face.

"With you?"

The man's face reddened, and he nodded. "I am going to start a farm on Tar Adnom. It is a small planet, I'm sure, no one will seek you there."

"I… I don't know…"

"Please." His pleading look could soften a stone, probably.

"All right. But do you agree to accept me and my child?"

The immense relief in his eyes was indescribable. "Absolutely! What a beautiful kid. What is his name? "

Tanarine hesitated for just a second. "Obi-Wan. His name is Obi-Wan."

Their voices merged in an unclear rumble as the stage changed yet again, leaving Obi-Wan slightly dizzy. He stared at a HoloNet report.

_[i]Yesterday passenger transport flight number 587-TH, following from planet Nartala to Corellia, coming out of hyperspace came into collision with a cargo freighter, following from Corellia with a cargo of cylon. As a result of collision there was the powerful explosion, which has destroyed both ships. No survivals reported among crews of both ships and also among passengers.[/i]_

Chilly, without any sentiments as though such a thing occurred each day. Wait, it was the flight Tanarine was going to take. Obi-Wan broke into cold sweat. If not for Parel she could have perished then … they both would have perished.

And Sidious… Sidious did not know. He had traced her to her native planet, that's for certain. And, of course, he knew that she had bought the ticket to that flight. He thought that his wife and son had died in the explosion. 

And he still thought so now.

*********** ***********

After two hours, spent making grueling 'magic' as Anadel called it, the two women were relaxing on the artificially lighted terrace with cups of steaming, pleasantly aromatic tea in their hands. Nais leaned back in her chair wearily, watching bright tiny birds fly from flower to flower in the garden. So tireless, so innocent, so devoid of worries. How much she wanted to be like them! To be the careless little girl again.

But she was the girl who had made too many mistakes and was now paying for them.

"How do you feel?"

Nais' hematite eyes traveled to the woman in front of her, and she touched her head briefly. "Like I'm wearing a thick helmet or something like that. The head is heavy. And it feels like I'm not me anymore. Though who else can I be? And… well, it's like I'm all alone out of the blue. Not alone here, in this building but…" She fumbled for the right words and finding none looked at Anadel, lost. "Like I'm completely alone in the universe. Like… I don't know… Do you understand?"

"Yes, I do. This is what I warned you of. It will pass." 

"Will it?"

Anadel's eyes were so kind, so understanding. Suddenly ashamed, Nais lowered her head. How could she be so stupid? Why had she run away?

"No. But you will get used to it. I've blocked only a part of your mind so be careful. He can still see everything else."

"Well, I guess I have to go now," Nais said, standing up, avoiding looking at Anadel.

The older woman stood up as well. She put her hand on Nais' shoulder.

"Please, child, be careful. And good luck."

"Thank you. I will." She turned to the terrace entrance. "I will find the exit. Don't bother yourself."

At the door Nais paused, as though unsure, then turned around to throw the last look at the old witch. Anadel smiled. Without another glance Nais left the terrace and soon the dome altogether. 

Scenes from her past stood before her eyes. She with her parents… Anadel telling her fairy tales… Her mother singing a lullaby… Swimming in the pool behind the house… Her running away…

Overpowered by memories Nais didn't notice how she got back to Coruscant. 

She entered her apartment – the apartment Palpatine gave her – and there was he, waiting. The crystal smoke-colored veil of memories shattered, bringing the full weight of harsh reality onto her. His blue, ice-cold eyes watched her every movement as she walked inside.

"Where have you been?"

She looked at him carefully. He knew. He knew she had visited Anadel.

"You know I dislike it when you visit that witch."

Nais kept silent.

"And I dislike it even more," he leaned forward, and his eyes blazed with fire carefully controlled. But the fire he could easily liberate. "when you try to cheat me."

She barely managed to find her voice, "You mean the spy-droid?"

"Exactly."

"I-I was… I… I didn't…" ~Gods help me!~ she thought in despair.

"You will be punished for it," he stated.

Nais shivered. What would he do to her? At least he won't interrogate her further. It seemed the conversation was over for now. 

But she was proved wrong immediately.

"Hmm…" Palpatine said, leaning back in his huge armchair. "Why did Iktar decided to kill Madis all of a sudden?"

Nais winced and clasped her fingers behind her back until it hurt. "How should I know?" she replied calmly – she hoped.

"Or rather," Palpatine continued, paying no attention to her words. "Why did you request he kill Madis?"

Blue hypnotic eyes stared straight into her soul, cold anger swirling in their depth. Nais went white. Palpable energy, coming from those eyes, coiled around her. She almost chocked. 

"I… I…"

"Yes?" the Chancellor asked pleasantly, but the undertone held a ringing of doom.

"He… He got on my nerves… H-he wooed me. A-and I… I wanted to…" 

Her tongue froze, her lips refused to move. Cold sticky sweat surged down her back, washed her forehead, stung her eyes. Sweat mixed with tears that welled in her eyes, blurring everything. No! She would not cry! Not before him!

"Hm." With a flick of his wrist the monster in human guise turned on a small holoprojector. 

Nais' heart skipped a beat as her legs went weak. From the well-attuned holoprojection dead eyes of Iktar's head looked straight at her. The projection shifted, gaining range, and Nais clasped her mouth with both hands to hold in a wild scream. The head was lying on a table. Only the head as it was cut off from everything else. Dark, almost black blood covered the tabletop under the cleaved neck.

Palpatine studied the sight with a nearly bored expression. 

"Not too impressive," he remarked. "Maybe you want to see it in person?"

Huge coal-black eyes leveled on him. He raised an eyebrow at her, but behind the almost casual gesture she saw a well of controlled fury – controlled until he decided to release it. And the object of that fury was she.

*********** ***********


	15. Chapter 15

Day at the bottom levels of Coruscant was much brighter than night. Sunbeams, being reflected off the walls of houses countless number of times, made an impression of openness. But behind this deceptive luminosity danger lurked no less terrible than night predators – the sentient beings turned into a certain semblance of animals some in a pursuit of their passions and some in simple attempts to survive. Coruscant did not spare anybody.

That was day. But it was night now and it was filled with its own creatures.

Obi-Wan did not like to go down here, perhaps because the very air here was penetrated with rage and torments, or maybe because he felt awkward at the idea that he lived in a contentment somewhere up there far from this place when there are beings compelled to live down here.

With an effort of will the knight drove away the gloomy thoughts. There was nothing he could do to change lives of these beings, like he could not very well go and save all slaves on Tatooine. Though there were times when he read such a desire in his Padawan's eyes, in thoughts, less controlled than usual, and there were times when he himself wished to do just that. Just go and save everybody. But the rational side always took over, and he stayed where he was, displeased with himself and everything around him. 

But the here and now demanded his attention. There was no sense to lose himself in useless reflections. They were good in serene meditation halls of the Temple, not here in deceptive calm of street when danger loitered behind each corner.

The sharp eye of the Jedi snatched out details which would seem completely harmless to a less skilled person. There a Twi'lek with one lekku, half torn off, cast a sidelong evaluating look at a speeder Obi-Wan had just left. Never mind, no need to worry about the speeder. It was unlikely anyone could break it open, Obi-Wan smiled, there were such locks on it – Anakin's invention, by the way. It took Obi-Wan himself about half an hour to force those locks, and he had not only proper equipment but the Force on his side.

The guy and the girl in a corner – sloppy, with improbable hair-dresses made of greasy hair – looked sideways at him with interest, but turned away disappointedly almost right away. Maybe they had realized he was a Jedi – this cloak was too easily recognizable, after all – or maybe hadn't found anything worth their attention.

Obi-Wan approached a dirty tarnished door and opened it. The door moved easily much to his surprise, not filling the neighborhood with a shrill crunch he had expected. That's for the better. Giving another look over and wrapping himself up in the cloak tighter, the Jedi dived into the icy darkness of the doorway. 

The lifeless light of a pale-green lamp was hardly suffice to not stumble. The suffocating stench drifting from somewhere above, forced the breaths become superficial, skin-deep. It seemed, even the Force had curled itself up into a ball, moaning slightly. Darkness, chilling the heart, compelled the Jedi to hurry up. He kept his feelings on the alert, but slightly muffled, otherwise it was entirely possible to overload them. 

Some more hasty steps, and Obi-Wan found himself on a quite decently lit resting-place. Switching off the lamp, he paused for a second as though plucking up his spirits, then slowly pushed the door he needed.

Special cleaner-droids had already had time to visit the apartment, having taken away the corpse. The sensation of emptiness hung in the shadowy dwelling. Obi-Wan strolled around the rooms, trying not to touch anything. Force flowered through him as his feelings tried to discover traces of Sith. He suddenly came to a standstill. This was it. Another's presence poured over him leaving an unpleasant metal after-taste in his mouth. 

Yes, the Sith had been here. But something was not right. Obi-Wan strained his feelings, biting deeper into the fleeting ethereal presence, prodding it, sampling. 

Everything was wrong.

Yes, it was a strong presence in the Force. Yes, it spread darkness in the air. But it was not that sinister presence he had felt there on Naboo which had seemed to watch him while he had fought Maul. No, it was not Sidious. The Sith sojourn had been brief but fruitful. The presence, though attenuated with another Jedi's aura – Balan-Tar, if he remembered correctly – and the foul sense of murder, was still powerful. But it was not the presence he sought.

Obi-Wan drew his comlink, punched in Windu's code.

"Windu here," the comlink echoed.

"Master, it is Obi-Wan Kenobi. I am at the indicated apartment. Knight Balan-Tar is not here."

"He is not supposed to be. He was ordered to return to the Temple at once. What about the darksider, can you sense anything?"

"Yes, I sense the dark presence here, though it's already somewhat muted. But it's not Si-… the one I sensed on Naboo. It's not him. Should I follow his tracks?"

"Yes, follow him and gather as much information as possible. Windu out."

Obi-Wan turned off the comlink with a sigh. And he had promised Anakin a breakfast together. So much for promises…

A warning from the Force washed over him, and all thoughts of breakfast flew out of his mind. The danger was real and imminent, formidable, though not meant for him. 

"Why do I get a feeling Balan-Tar has gotten himself into deep poodoo?" Obi-Wan muttered.

He cast his shields aside, opening himself to the brilliance of Force almost completely. He had no time to slowly trace the Sith and, most likely, the knight who was overly eager for his own good. Somehow Obi-Wan had no doubt they were at the same place. Before he could think another word Obi-Wan found himself running down the stairs, drawn by the Force.

~Just don't be late!~ the thought beat in his mind. 

*********** **********

"Another Sith did he say?" Yoda's usually sleepy eyes were now troubled, assuming the deeper shade of green. 

"Yes, he said this was not the one he had sensed on Naboo. He sounded assured." 

Mace Windu rubbed his temples. The statement was inconceivable, wild. How many Sith could there be, after all? How could that Sith – whether a Master or an Apprentice – had trained another in such a short period as one year?

"A restored link in broken pair this might be," Yoda said after a short pause as though echoing the other's thoughts. But to Mace his voice didn't sound convincing. Suddenly an idea dawned on him.

"Do you remember Raingers*?"

"Yes, yes, hmm. Jedi they are yet live with other Jedi refuse. What make of them do you want, Master Mace?"

"I'm sure they monitor the situation in the galaxy just as we do. And they have a different perspective. Perhaps they know more than we do. I'll talk to them."

"Be absent for long you should not. But talk to them you must."

"I won't be long." Windu stood up. "What I can't understand is why don't they acquire a comm. unit."

With those words he went out the door, leaving Yoda staring thoughtfully at the floor.

*********** ***********

Meanwhile Brimar found himself before a building that housed a dirty inn, a seedy bar and Sith knew what else. The 'glowing dolls' turned out to be a bunch of rather scruffy-looking mannequins, representing a group of dancing Twi'leks, wrapped up in garlands of small strobing bulbs. Dolls she had said? Well, he definitely wouldn't call [i]_these_[/i] 'dolls'. Though in her innocence the poor girl most likely didn't know the word best describing the women whom she had qualified as glowing dolls.

The girl had said Niamo lived here. Brimar shivered slightly, remembering her unsettling eyes. But where exactly did that blasted Niamo live? Gray splinted eyes – now dull from weariness having lost their usual glint after the whole day and half the night racing about the city – caught sight of a small annex to the right from the main building. It didn't look like any kind of dwelling house – shabby, hiding its slits in shadows. But Brimar's expert eyes noted a few signs of life being led there. Having reached a conclusion he directed his steps to what looked most like a door. 

The inside was just as hideous as the outside. Never-ceasing darkness occupied every corner, staring at the bold human with cold unblinking eyes, baring its teeth. Some spaces were faintly illuminated by the light, coming in through filthy windows from upper levels and variegated signs on the nearby structures. 

On an impulse Brimar knocked on the nearest door. A woman, who opened the door and eyed him guardedly from the small crack, might be called anything but young and beautiful. Her wide face and broad frame bore all the marks of poverty.

"Wha'da ya want?" she barked, squinting suspiciously at the late night visitor.

"Niamo?" Brimar said in a faintly uncertain tone of voice. He knew the more vague his question sounded the more information he might get. His expectations proved to be correct. 

"That good-for-nothing loafer?! He's at the bar, drinkin' those stinkin' slops of his. He's always there at nights. And at days too."

"Thanks."

Before the vexed woman could utter another word or blink her eyes Brimar was gone. On his way out he thought that if she were his wife perhaps he would spend his days and nights at a bar too.

Finding the door to the bar among a number of other doors, Brimar entered a garishly lit room. His eyes swept the interior swiftly. The bar was empty save for who Brimar assumed to be the barman and a group of four men at one of the tables. Niamo had to be there.

Brimar started to wind his way to the little company around the tables that littered the bar's floor in total disorder. He was half way there when a dark figure stepped into the room, appearing, it seemed, out of nowhere. Brimar stopped dead in his tracks. He recognized the newcomer. Whoever it was this was the one who had some interest in Holocron. The Sith. 

Soundlessly the figure moved to the four men who stared at it, speechless. It crept like shadows that steal light as not a single sound broke the shocked silence. It advanced like death itself… Brimar watched it move, spellbound. 

The black figure approached the table. The four drunk men – though they already started to give signs of growing sober – shifted uncomfortably, trying to get away from this vision of doom. 

"Niamo?" the cloaked figure hissed loud enough for Brimar to hear. 

Three men looked at their companion, who swallowed hard.

"What ya want?!" he suddenly yelled, clenching the edge of the table. 

"Holocron." The hissed reply sent the man into shivers.

"I don't know 'bout no Holocron! Get off!" 

He balled his fists as though ready to attack but, Brimar noted, apparently not sober enough to stand straight yet. The hooded figure raised its hand. Niamo jumped to his feet as if jerked up and froze. 

"Give it to me NOW!"

His whole body shaking the man reached into his pocket and produced a gleaming in the bar's light crystal. The glowed hand took it from him and turned around in examination. 

"Good," the hissing voice sounded much calmer now. 

Brimar started to wonder if the Sith would simply leave now that he had the Holocron, and it seemed the cloaked person was inclined to do just that when a new visitor showed up in the scene. A beige clad Ishi Tib barged into the bar through the door and beheld the "friendly" assemblage. 

"There you are, Sith!" the undoubtedly Jedi yelled and ignited a yellow lightsaber.

The Sith flashed his eyes at him from under the black hood and ignited the red lightsaber, tucking the Holocron into a pocket somewhere beneath the cloak. Brimar looked around, searching for a way to stay out of fight that was surely coming this way. 

Niamo suddenly made as if to attack the Sith, apparently trying to get the Holocron back. With one sure smooth swing the red beam cleaved his head from his neck, leaving him standing for a moment. With a loud thud he then collapsed to the floor, the head a few inches away from him. 

With an ululating cry the Jedi charged, trying to catch the Sith off-guard. Parrying the first strike the Sith turned sharply, and the hood flew down, letting loose a mass of pale blond hair. A delicate beautiful face was now open for the view. A woman!

~Women can be even more merciless than men,~ Brimar thought out of place. 

And this woman was enraged. Deep-blue eyes shone with fury. The cloak flew around her like wings of raven as she fought viciously.

"What in the name of Heylli have I gotten myself into?!" Brimar muttered, turning over the nearest table and diving behind it. "No Holocron is worth losing my head!"

*********** **********

* The Raingers belong to Justice Skywalker and are used with her permission. 


	16. Chapter 16

Well, Athena, it seems I'm a bit slow in getting the plot into motion. That was just a prelude, now the real action is about to come. *Looks at the page count and chokes on her words.*

Thank you, ewan's girl. Future will show.

No, Farore, it's not Nais. It is someone else entirely.

*********** **********

Force swirled in hushed rough waves, whispering, nudging, mixing with coolness of the air, and filling his soul with unrest. Obi-Wan went through the shady streets as fast as he could without actually running – and weighted by an oppressing feeling of not being fast enough. A running Jedi in the middle of the night this far down would attract too much unwanted attention. Even his hastened trot drew glances of various beings from shaded corners. He would have sent all the possible risks to Sith and ran if only he knew where to. His destination was close, very close, this much he could tell for sure. But his every step needed to be checked, direction corrected. And it slowed him immensely.

"Hurry," the Force urged.

And he hurried, and lost direction, and retraced his steps, the sense of time building up inside him, of time slipping through his fingers like grains of sand, like flow of water. The sense of irreparable about to occur. 

Where? Where? Where?!

He turned his head around, wrapped up his cloak tighter around himself to drive away the chill and searched. He never stopped to consider whether it was the chill of the night or the chill of foreshadowing that cooled his heart. 

Force led him, but in his anxiety he lost its guiding thread every now and then. He dashed forward in impatience, then stopped listening to the Force, seeking out the frail sinister presence. His fingers moved slightly, running over the invisible threads, sorting through them looking for the one he needed. There! 

And he ran again, almost like in his dreams… But there he at least knew where to go. Here… He stopped once more to find the direction he had lost.

He was about to start running again when it happened…

The ugly inky blot of violent death spread in the brilliance of the Force, tainting the area, tainting the very air. Breath caught in his throat. Late. He was late. It was the death of a Force-sensitive. Balan-Tar! It happened so close… And he was late!

Black tendrils of Dark Side crept down the street, wiggling like snakes, like hungry tentacles of a large devilfish. They delved into Obi-Wan's mind, trying to stifle, trying to conquer. The knight lowered his head.

Like a short explosion another death burst into the Force – this one of a non-Force-sensitive but at the same place. No time for grief, he needed to find the spot. Maybe he could spare someone. With renewed determination Obi-Wan resumed his search. 

The Twi'lek mannequins looked down at him from behind their strobbing bulbs, as though mocking.

Hastily Obi-Wan opened the door to the bar. The Force was leading him there. He shut his eyes for a moment at the blazing light of variegated glow-rods. When he opened them again the bar was empty. He made a step forward. Something shifted in shadows. Not so empty, it seemed. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a movement near one of the windows but when he turned that way whoever it had been was gone. The Jedi probed the unknown presence thoroughly, but this wasn't the Sith, and he let the person go. Soundlessly Obi-Wan moved forward. 

Four – no, five – repellent bodies were lying between chopped up into grits tables. Four threadbare human and an Ishi Tib in Jedi clothes. There was no trace of the Darksider anywhere. Whoever had killed them was far away from here now. One by one Obi-Wan bent over each of the bodies, trying to find any sign of life though his heart told him he would find none. Finally he straightened and attempted to find the dark remainders of the Sith's presence, but taints of deaths mixed and flowed, muffling, distorting everything else. There was no telling where the Sith had gone. 

Lowering his head in defeat and grief for lives lost Obi-Wan picked his comlink to contact the Temple to tell them the Jedi had lost one of their own. 

************ ***********

The raven-like woman was fighting with grace and power rarely seen. From behind his table Brimar watched her and the Jedi fight and even he, a layman, could see that the Jedi had no chances against this power, embodied in a lovely visage of a woman. Her eyes burned with cold fire of hatred and sneer. Her moves were lightning-quick and precise.

If this was the servant of the Dark Side of the Force, Brimar thought, he never wanted to get intimately acquainted with one. 

He suddenly thought of Dooku – his boss, his companion, his friend. The Count was a Force-sensitive and a great one at that. Brimar knew he could trust him. But… There was a risk – and it suddenly seemed so close – the risk of him turning to the Dark Side. The man shivered, imagining his friend with the same expression on his face, with the same hatred for everything in his eyes. 

The Jedi, already sweating and out of breath, slipped in defense and made a mistake. Holding his breath Brimar watched as the red blade swung in a wide arc, cutting the Ishi Tib just below his shoulders. Foul smell of burnt flesh filled the air, and Brimar held his nose with both hands. The body crushed to the floor heavily. 

Not stopping to even look at her fallen enemy the Sith swung her blazing weapon to the three standing men. The folds of her cloak billowed around her slim body as petals of a beautiful black flower. The men recoiled from the red scorching heat of the blade but not fast enough. In quick succession three heads rolled to the floor. The Sith was left standing amidst the carnage like an angel of death. 

For a moment she stood motionless, her eyes closed as though feasting with the terrible deed of her hands. During this moment Brimar held hope she hadn't noticed him. But as her razor-sharp eyes opened, and she looked straight at him he knew the hope was pointless. Seeing no reason in hiding any further Brimar slowly stood up. 

Calmly he measured his chances. He had a blaster but what was it worth against a Sith? He was as helpless against her as a newborn baby. His chances were even smaller than those of the now dead Jedi. His lips parted in the mirthless smile as he gazed into the eyes of his death.

The Sith started to raise her hand, but it stopped in midair. The woman turned sharply towards the entrance. Brimar turned too. There was nothing there, yet something had alerted her. Then in the blink of an eye she was gone, leaving her might-have-been victim alone and confused. Brimar wiped perspiration from his forehead with slightly trembling hand, squinting at the door again, then looked at the bodies before him. 

~Should I inform someone, authorities…?~ He looked around in search for the barman, but the man had apparently disappeared while the Sith had been occupied. ~Great! Go, coward.~

He looked at the door again. What or who could have scared the Sith? Obviously not another toper. Brimar thought that he really didn't need any more problems. And he didn't want to know who it was. 

The door started to open, and Brimar dashed to the closest window. Hiding behind a not-too-clear curtain he was about to climb out the window but… An almost painful surge of curiosity stooped him, and he froze behind the curtain, watching. Another Jedi entered the bar.

~Who else would scare a Sith?!~ Brimar mentally slapped himself.

This Jedi was human, and Brimar watched as he closed his eyes at the sharp contrast of light. He could easily see the Jedi from his hiding spot while the other could not see him. 

~Oh, really? What about the Force?~

Suddenly remembering that he was at a disadvantage against the Jedi and that he didn't want to answer the uncomfortable questions Brimar quietly slipped out of the window and ran as fast as he could.

************ ***********

The Senate building teemed with life as Anakin walked idly its spacious intricately decorated halls in the late hours of morning. The senators were in general the people of taste and more importantly of money. It would not do for the place they worked in to insult their senses. It would not do for the Senate building – the virtual center of the Republic, the focus of ruling power – to look like a mere office. And so the magnificent building, designed by renowned architects, decorated with numerous works of art was a feast to the eye and an excellent guide through the various cultures of the galaxy as every senator wished for his or her sector of the building to be decorated according to the traditions of their homeplanets.

Anakin had no classes to attend to this morning – which was a rare occasion really – and he didn't want to miss his chance. His Master who had left the Temple almost as soon as they had arrived – though it had been deep into the night – was absent when Anakin left the Temple to come here. The Padawan knew the Knight had returned to the Temple at dawn, but the Council had requested he appear before them immediately, and Obi-Wan was now giving his report to them – still. 

Catching up on the study material he had missed during the days they were off seemed way too boring to the young Padawan, and as he barely had any friends at the Temple he decided to pay a visit to his friend at the Senate – the Chancellor. 

Palpatine was always glad to see him and always had time for him whenever he came. And he was always a patient listener and a wise advisor. There was also something that drew Anakin to the man: that wisdom, that kindness, sincerity. His friendly warm smiles and no dull lectures everyone at the Temple seemed so fond of. He sometimes reminded Anakin of Qui-Gon. 

In the corridor leading to Palpatine's study the boy paused. What if he came at a wrong time? What if he bothered the Chancellor? He looked around the hall uncertainly. Was it right to come just like that, without prior notice? 

A woman came from one of the silvery doors lining the mulberry wall and started to walk toward him in a brusque, business-like but somehow tired pace. The clicking of her high heels on the crimson parquet echoed loudly around the empty hall. She looked… weird, Anakin mused looking her over with sudden interest. He had a feeling he had seen her before, but something was wrong with her appearance now. 

He stared at her bluntly, wondering what felt so awkward about her. Dark-blond hair, brushed back in a tight bun, black eyes – so dark it was impossible to discern the pupils. Eyes strangely dull, devoid of sparkle, devoid of strength her face suggested she had. Her overall appearance looked all right to Anakin aside from those eyes, but something was definitely wrong. The feeling grew stronger with every second as she approached him. The Force…

Wait a minute! Gathering the Force around himself Anakin looked with the extra vision it provided at the woman's presence and nearly recoiled in shock. The presence seemed… blistered, scarred, though how it was possible the boy had no idea. He suddenly remembered seeing her here before – she was one of the Chancellor's aides – but never had her aura seemed so unnatural, so… ill.

And underneath it all was fear. Great, primary fear. It throbbed inside her presence barely beneath the surface. She was scared to death, and Anakin felt himself nearing panic when he touched that bone-deep terror. He quickly withdrew and simply stared at her, wide-eyed. What could have possibly scared her this much? What could have possible scare anyone this much?

"Hello," Anakin said when she was a mere meter away from him, his voice sounding strangled.

"Hello," she replied in a singsong voice, brushing his arm briefly. Without another glance she walked past him and disappeared behind one of the doors.

Feeling the strain of her fear slowly melt away Anakin breathed a deep sigh. Using every Jedi technique he knew to calm himself the boy went to the door leading to Palpatine's office. With a faint whine the door's halves slid apart, revealing a round form of the office. Anakin winced at the sight. He wasn't the one to pay heed to decoration but ever-present red rattled even him. The Chancellor was sitting at his desk writing something. At the sound of the door opening he raised his head.

"Oh, hello, Anakin." A smile appeared on the aged face.

"Hello, sir."

Palpatine motioned at the seats in front of his table, inviting Anakin to sit down, and leaned back in his chair. He waited until the boy made himself comfortable before starting to speak.

"What brings you here, my young friend?"

"Uh, I had nothing to do and I…"

"I see. Would you like some sweets?" The old man stood up, walked to a cupboard fitted in the wall and picked a box of sweets from one of the shelves, looking at Anakin.

The boy nodded vigorously. He loved sweets. As soon as the box was in his hands he opened it and promptly stuffed two sweets into his mouth. The Chancellor watched him with a fatherly smile. His mouth full, Anakin looked at the box, and his eyes widened.

"This is my present for you, my young friend. I know they don't give you much candy at the Temple."

"No, they don't. But these are very expensive, I saw…"

"They are yours. You can eat as many as you want."

Anakin's eyes lit up with happiness. Palpatine smiled again and walked back to his table, but as he turned from the Padawan the Chancellor's smile lost all its kindness. ~Give the boy a candy, and his heart is yours.~

"Thank you, sir!" Anakin paused for a moment. "Um, I saw a woman… back in the hall. She… she seemed to be… upset." How could he explain to the Chancellor what he had felt through the Force? With all his kindness and chariness Palpatine knew nothing about the Force.

"A woman? Ah, that must be Nais. Yes, she is quite upset lately. Her family is in danger. She's afraid to lose them. Unfortunately neither she nor I can help them. It is laudable of you to worry about her."

Anakin lowered himself, pleased to be praised.

"So, young Anakin, how are you doing?"

"Fine, I think."

"I heard you and your Master were away for some time. Did you have a mission?" ~ Why do I have to drag it from him?~

"No, it's that… Master Obi-Wan's mother has died. We went to visit her because she wasn't dead yet, but when we came she was and we stayed for the funeral…" Anakin trailed off, afraid his crumpled words made no sense.

Palpatine smiled and nodded, showing that he understood. He, after all, already knew it.

"Well, so then we went to her homeplanet and stayed at a temple. It was like Jedi Temple but different." 

Anakin became animated telling about his new friend, Dar'Yana, how they had fished and swam in the river and done many other 'cool' things. Palpatine listened patiently, waiting for this boisterous fountain of words and impressions to wear out. Finally Anakin ceased talking and stuffed another candy into his mouth.

"And what about your Master? Is he all right?"

"Umm, not quite, I think."

"What happened?" Concerned expression clouded Palpatine's features.

Anakin looked at him with sudden doubt. ~Should I tell him what Master Obi-Wan learned about his father?~

************ ***********


	17. Chapter 17

Thanks for the review, ewan's girl

Athena, thanks. Glad you like Brimar (almost :))

Thanks, Farore. Umm… I don't know if this particular Sith appears later but you will see her in this chapter.

A/N: I did a small rewrite of chapter 13, more precisely of Obi's parting with Telliko. Reread it if you wish.

************* ************

A ship came out of hyperspace and was approaching a planet fast. Mace Windu, piloting the ship himself for the old times' sake looked at the viewport again and for the tenth time thought that he would never understand these Raingers. What in the stars drove them to live this far away from everyone of their kind. He could understand the advantages of quiet time, full of serenity and contemplation, but he could not understand life without virtually everything modern technology had. He could understand time spent in isolation, he could not understand life spent like this. 

The nav. computer indicated receiving the landing beacon's signals, and Mace steered his ship down from the orbit. A few minutes later the ship landed smoothly, and the Jedi Master stood up, stretching with pleasure. The trip here wasn't too long, compared to some he had had in his youth, but still this wasn't exactly the center of the galaxy and he wasn't exactly young anymore. He looked into a mirror and winked at his reflection.

Opening the landing ramp he strode down it confidently and to the nearby house rising from the rocks that surrounded it. No one had come out to meet him, but perhaps they just were too busy. He opened the door to hear loud talk and child's excited cries. He must have walked right into the family row. Mace shook his head in wonder. This was so much unlike the Temple's sedate and ceremonious life it seemed he was in another universe.

A tall man with platinum-blond hair – Razor Rainger – leaned for a moment out of the door Mace suspected led to the house's kitchen, judging from the smells, which immediately assaulted him. Something pungent crept into the swarthy Jedi's nostrils, and he sneezed.

"Sorry," the man's voice called from the kitchen, though Mace couldn't be sure what he was apologizing for. "I'll be right there."

Windu crossed his arms over his chest and waited. A little girl ran out of one door with a happy squeal and immediately disappeared behind another. 

"Aerial!" her father yelled, and a small tornado whizzed past Mace and dived into the kitchen.

~'Aerial'?~ Mace quietly wondered. Apparently the Raingers kept the tradition of giving meaningful names to their children. 

Finally the older Rainger showed up, still mixing something aromatic in a little clay bowl. 

"Hello, Master Windu. Temple dwellers are no often guests of late. What brings you here?"

"You and your family live separately out here. We hoped you could provide us with a different perspective."

"I am at your disposal. Follow me." 

Razor showed his guest to the drawing-room and left for a second to get rid of his bowl. Returning he sat down onto a low divan and prepared to listen.

"As you might know there was an incident last year involving the Sith." Mace paused, gauging the other's reaction. The blonde nodded in affirmation. "The Sith was destroyed by a Padawan…"

Razor raised an eyebrow but withheld his comments.

"…We believe there was another Sith present – still is – a Master or an Apprentice we could not determine. But recent events showed that perhaps there is more than one fully trained Sith."

"What makes you think so?"

"A Sith has killed a Knight…"

"But why do you think this is not the same Sith whose presence you detected before?"

"That Padawan had felt the Sith's presence while he battled Maul and he assured us this new person is not the one he had sensed then."

The man scratched his head in thought. 

"And now you want to know if WE sensed something. This must be pretty important to bring you all the way here."

"It is. We can't let the Sith rise to power again."

~Or maybe you just don't like to be bested.~ Razor thought, looking directly at Windu. "I'm afraid I can't be of any help to you. Neither me nor my wife have sensed anything out of ordinary. We have detected, of course, the general darkness clouding over the galaxy, but nothing defined." 

"But you are not that far from Coruscant. Have you really sensed nothing?" Mace insisted.

"No, nothing. Besides we were somewhat occupied," Razor motioned in the general direction of the kitchen where his daughter was supposed to be. He then stood up, showing the conversation was over.

Mace stood up as well. "Well, thank you for your time. By the way, where is your wife?"

"Oh, she went on an errand. Should be back soon."

"All right, say hello to her from me. Thank you again."

"Always at your service."

Mace Windu went out of the house, accompanied by the girl's shrieks from the kitchen and his own disgruntled thoughts about the futility of this trip.

As soon as the ship took off a woman came forward to lay her head against her husband's shoulder, knowing that Windu would not see them. Her blond hair mixed with his as they watched the Jedi's ship shoot into the atmosphere. When the ship turned into a speck against the deep-blue sky Razor turned to his wife.

"Did you get it back, Dorah?"

"Yes, I did." Dorah reached into an inner pocket of her black flowing cloak and drew out a crystal that sparkled brightly in the sun.

"It was really foolish of Tarrus to think he could steal our family Holocron and even more ludicrous to think he could sell it," the man commented, brushing his hand over the jewel while dark anger lit his eyes. "What has become of him?" he added casually.

"He lived long enough to see his own dismembered body."

"You are the greatest, my little beloved Sith," Razor murmured into his wife's hair.

She squirmed in delight.

"What did Windu want?"

"Oh, I guess he wanted me to give away my own wife. Ridiculous!"

"No, I'm serious, what did he want?" Dorah looked into his eyes with concern.

"He wanted to know if we noticed another Sith around here. I said no."

"Why, you, shameless liar!"

They both laughed.

********** **********

.Anakin Skywalker walked back to the Temple thinking if what he had done was right. He could not understand what made him act like he did. The Chancellor was a good man and as trustworthy as anyone could be but… Perhaps it was this 'but' that kept the Padawan from telling Palpatine about Obi-Wan's father.

Or maybe it was because telling someone – anyone – would have broken the privacy. This little mystery was some kind of a link, connecting Anakin to his Master, making them closer. And he didn't want anyone to intrude.

But why would he think about Palpatine as an intruder?

The boy stopped and looked at the box of candies he carried. It felt good to have them. He opened the box and took out one sweet. Stuffing it into his mouth he resumed his walk. 

He hadn't told, so what? Had he broken the trust between himself and Palpatine? No, he didn't think so. 

On the other hand, if he had told he could have broken Obi-Wan's trust.

No, he had done the right thing.

With this reassuring thought he stepped under the protection of the Jedi Temple. His Master should be at their quarters by now, Anakin mused. They could have a lunch together. Obi-Wan had promised a breakfast together, but the Council… An unbidden anger rose in Anakin's heart. It seemed the Council always wanted to keep him away from those he wanted to spend time with. The boy hastily quelled the anger, storing it somewhere deep inside himself lest someone detect it. 

He went to the quarters he shared with Obi-Wan and was about to key in the code when Bant approached.

"Hello, Anakin," she said. Something in her voice made him pause and look at her quizzically.

"Hello, Master Bant."

"I was looking for you."

"W-why?" 

She was a healer – aside from being Obi-Wan's friend – and her looking for Anakin could be because she had bad news about his Master who was renowned for his getting into trouble.

"It's Obi-Wan…"

So he was right, his Master had gotten into something… again. Anakin paled as his fingers unconsciously clasped the box he held tighter.

"He's at the Mind-healers'."

"What?!" He must have heard wrong!

"The Council sent him there…"

Before she could finish the sentence Anakin was running down the hall to the lifts. 

********** *********

Shadows shifted briefly, filling the abandoned building with fleeting whispers. The night's coolness permeated the structure mixing with stark emptiness of life spent and forgotten, of death waiting around the corner. The building was living its last – days? months? No one knew. And no one cared. Wind howled in huge creaks of the walls, jumped through open windows that yawned like eye-sockets of a skull – the building was just a skeleton of what had once been here. The ubiquitous shadows moved and arched in the chaos of darkness – all but one. 

A watchful eye could, if one wished, glimpse a shadow that was just as dark, just as ominous as everything around it yet it stayed unmoving in the gloom. The sound of breathing this shadow produced could barely be heard even in the silence-struck abandonment of the building. The penetrating wind seemed to have no effect on the mute figure that stood wrapped in voluminous cloak of the color of night. 

One could easily mistake the figure for a statue if not for occasional subtle glint of two eyes scanning the perimeter of the room. 

He could stand like this for hours – even days – if need be, not showing any sign of the impatience building inside him that was slowly molding into anger. He was careful to keep this anger in check, to keep it concealed but easily accessible. Anger was an instrument he perfected. It was a tool and a weapon. The one who made him wait too long risked to taste his fury.

What could be so drastic, so urgent to call him out to this building, he wondered, knowing he would not get any answers until the meeting takes place.

But where was the blasted Jedi?

He moved his fingers slightly as though channeling his displeasure into them and throwing it off. A faint whine of engine filled his ears.

~Is the Jedi so stupid as to land right here?~

But no, the whine gained distance then died away. Heavy silence filled his ears again. 

Minutes tickled by…

"My Lord?"

He didn't – quite – flinch at the faint sound. Another shadow shifted to approach him. Anyone else would have missed him, would have overlooked his presence, but the Force-users didn't really need eyes.

"What is it you wished to inform me of?" he asked coldly, showing in his tone the volume of his displeasure with the other's lateness. 

The figure in front of him shrank visibly. "I'm sorry, Lord Sidious. The Council's assemblies lasted all day and… it proved to be, er, problematic to leave the Temple at such an hour…"

"You should have thought of it before making an appointment," he stated sharply. 

The other shadow shrank even more and bowed its head. 

"Forgive me, Master. But the news is too important… I suppose you know who Obi-Wan Kenobi is…"

Sidious huffed loudly and this was the only sign of exasperation he let on, but it was enough.

"Of course, why wouldn't you," the Jedi quickly rectified. "He came to the Council this morning and told some… striking things about… about his father."

"What is it to me? I don't care who was that man who conceived the…"

"It were you."

At any other time such impudence, such incredible boldness of interrupting him would have been severely punished but not this time. Silence fell heavily over the two as Sidious reeled in shock trying to comprehend what the other had just said. 

Silence stretched. The Jedi seemed curious to know what the Dark Lord thought of it. He would not let this fool sense his unease. 

"Is this all you wished to tell me?" he asked in a plain voice, masking every feeling he might have.

"Y-yes, My Lord." 

Two eyes sparkled with curiosity but immediately lowered under the stern glare of the Sith Lord.

"Return to the Temple before your absence is spotted."

With a polite bow – and a surge of disappointment in the Force – the Jedi blended into the shadows, leaving Sidious to contemplate the news in solitude. The Dark Lord stood motionless for what seemed like hours.

~My son?~

He could not believe it. He had had a son once… long ago. But he was dead along with his mother – wasn't he? They had both died in that crash… An old forgotten pain rose in his heart quickly molding into the fury.

She had run away from him – from HIM!

She had hid their son!

Almost unconsciously he threw his hand out, finding an outlet for the crushing anger he felt and admired the writhing and crackling flow of blue lightning.

She had betrayed him!

She had stolen his son from him!

The walls started to char, and he watched in furious fascination mixed with dark content as the lightning leaping from his wrinkled crooked, seemingly frail, fingers scorched everything around him, reduced everything – stone and wood – to ashes.

He imagined her face against the darkness before him and… faltered.

Sidious looked down at his fingers as though asking what was wrong. Another wave of anger mounted inside him, and he released another barrage of bluish-white fire. 

She had escaped him… again. If she hadn't been dead he would have killed her himself now. She had played a trick on him, made him believe they were dead. She had tricked the Lord of the Sith himself! If not for that trick he would have found them – and his son would have been beside him now.

The very air around him burned with anger filled with crackling electricity. 

The woman he had loved had stolen his son from him! He could not forgive it – he could not forget it. She had given the boy to the Jedi.

"Jedi!" he spat into the darkness.

The hated breed – and his son, his flesh and blood was one of them, was the one who had killed Maul. But maybe it was not too late yet? Maybe he still could have him at his side? 

Maybe Obi-Wan Kenobi could be turned back into Avayn Palpatine?

********* *********


	18. Chapter 18

I'm sorry it took so long to get this chapter written.

Athena, thank you. See what happens next.

Thanks, ewan's girl. I'm afraid family reunion is not too close yet, but it definitely will occur, he he.

*********** **********

In the morning a very disgruntled Brimar quietly entered the office-like room crammed with newest electronics in their secret headquarters. All this electronics was designed for shadowing, secret observation and listening. But as Dooku liked to empathize it was nothing compared to the abilities of a single Force-user. And Brimar had had a chance to make certain of his rectitude this very night. His failure with Holocron had placed a displeased frown onto Brimar's face. 

The room's only occupant sat hunched over some intricate schemes, planning something apparently. Letting the door slide close soundlessly behind him Brimar paused watching Dooku work. He knew the Count was aware of his presence – it was almost impossible to sneak on the former Jedi – and Brimar waited for an acknowledgement. 

"Are you going to stand there all day?" Dooku finally asked not turning away from his schemes.

Without a word Brimar crossed the room and sat down onto a chair next to the Count. When silence started to be awkward Dooku lifted his eyes up at his friend.

"What is it?"

"You know that I've lost the Holocron I was after. And nearly lost my life, too."

Dooku raised a brow. "And it is all? You are angry because you couldn't get that Holocron? Nonsense. It isn't worth being angry," he said casually. His tone was that of a person speaking to a little child. 

Brimar's eyes caught something sparkling on the table in front of him. There, between datapads and papers was lying a glistening crystal – Holocron. He swallowed hard.

"Where did you get it?"

"This? Lord Sidious was kind enough to provide me with this Holocron from his collection when I told him about your fiasco."

Somehow that stung. Long ago had he lost an ability to be proud, had learned to submit his ego and control his emotions – or so he had thought. Now he found he must have been mistaken. The person he thought of as one of his closest friends discussed his failing with a Sith Lord! 

"Dooku, have you lost your mind? You took this Holocron…"

"I do what I consider necessary," the Count interrupted him unceremoniously. His voice was laced with cold.

Brimar looked at him, incredulous. "This thing could be dangerous."

"My dear friend." Brimar had to subdue the shiver that overtook him at the way these words were spoken. "You have no connection to the Force at all. I, on contrary, am a master in the use of the Force. Do you think you have any right to tell me what is right and what is wrong concerning the Force – of which you have no idea?"

"Fine!" Brimar leapt onto his feet. "Make a fuss of your new toy all you want. But don't call me when you turn to the Dark Side!"

With that he stormed out of the room, wishing he could bang the door loudly to stress his point. 

*********** **********

The Healers' Ward was a familiar sight with its stark white walls, sense of diseases and healers rushing busily about. But that was the usual part of the Healers', which was now screened off by a glass door that let no sounds in. And here… here was the realm where mind-healers ruled. Like another universe. Silence was the sound here. Muted lights, slow crawling of digits on the wall chrono. 

Anakin sat huddled in a chair that looked to be comfortable enough yet provided none of the coziness its outward appearance suggested. Anakin was waiting. Had it been two hours already? A casual observer would have thought the boy was sleeping peacefully but that was not the case. The Padawan had resorted to this trick after the third time the healers tried to kick him out of the waiting room which he resisted with obstinate recalcitrance. 

Suddenly his ears perked at the sound of the door opening, and he peeked out from half-closed lids guardedly. For a moment bustling roar filled his ears but immediately died down to a faint hum as the door closed. 

It was Bant.

A healer came out of a room to his left and walked to his colleague giving Anakin a sliding sidelong glance. 

"How is he?" Bant asked in a hushed tone. Anakin knew for sure of whom she was speaking. The mind-healer, apparently, did too.

"We've checked his mind and all of his bonds for any… divergence."

"And?"

"Before I can proceed I must be sure you have the right to receive this information. You must understand, the Council…"

"The Council told me everything. They sent Obi-Wan here because his new-found father is Darth Sidious." The Mon Calamari looked the tall mind-healer straight in the eyes which was no small feat with her being much shorter.

"Very well then," the Twi'lek healer didn't seem to be thrown off balance by the steady gaze of Bant's silvery eyes. "He is still in a bit of a shock about the news of his father but not overly so. He's handling it quite well. He also has a rightfully strong bond with his Padawan…"

Both healers threw a look at Anakin.

"But there is one thing that concerns me. His bond with his former Master has been cut off rather abruptly."

Bant scoffed, "That is much of an understatement."

"Perhaps. The bond was ripped out being fully open, and it must have been very painful. In order to lessen that pain Knight Kenobi had built a barrage of shields protecting that area of his mind."

"Could it bring any damage to his brain?"

"It is now stable so I doubt it could bring any new damage. But that part of his mind is now completely blocked. If he came to us in a few days after the bond was cut we would have been able to help him. Now…" the healer shrugged. "I'm afraid there is nothing we can do about it."

"Could it be dangerous?"

"No, I don't think so. That part of his mind is passive now, and I don't think he will ever need it."

"What are you going to tell the Council?"

"We did not detect any unusual inclination towards the Dark Side. He is free to leave us in a few hours."

"Can I see him?" Both healers turned sharply, startled by Anakin's voice which held no trace of sleepiness. Bant smiled slightly at him, but the boy didn't return the smile. He watched the Twi'lek intently.

The mind-healer looked at the chrono. "Yes, I think it is all right to visit him now. If you'll excuse me, I have work to do." And he disappeared behind one of the doors.

Anakin jumped to his feet still unconsciously clutching the box with sweets he had all but forgotten about.

Slowly opening the door to the room his Master was being kept in Anakin peeked inside warily. He suddenly felt awkward and unsure though he had not the faintest idea of what made him so. The slowly widening crack revealed a standard room with a bed at the wall… empty. Anakin blinked in surprise. Where was Master Obi-Wan? Padawan proceeded to open the door. Ah, there he was! A seemingly comfy armchair – though Anakin was now dubious of the questionable comfort it might provide – was turned to the window for a better view of Coruscant's busy sky. Slightly tousled locks of ginger hair covered the armchair's back. 

With a sudden peak of mischief Anakin sneaked into the room, shutting the door soundlessly behind himself. A few more careful steps and Anakin flung himself at Obi-Wan who caught him effortlessly. 

"Hello there!" Obi-Wan's smile could rival the brightness of Coruscant's sun.

"Hi, Master!"

Anakin wiggled slightly to get a better position on the knight's lap. He snuggled close to the older Jedi then looked up into his face.

"They didn't hurt you, did they?" Anakin's voice was half-concerned, half-playful. He could sense Obi-Wan was unharmed but he needed to ask anyway.

"Umm…" Obi-Wan picked up the game and pretended to be thoughtful. "No, I guess not. They kept all the dragons away from me. Otherwise what would I do without my loyal henchman?"

Anakin giggled imagining Obi-Wan dressed in ancient hauberk and helmet with long bright feathers atop it. The Master looked at him with question evident in his eyes. On an impulse Anakin sent the mental picture along with warm laughter through the bond, worrying slightly because he had never done it before. And thus he was pleasantly surprised when he received back through the bond a chatoyant trill of Obi-Wan's laughter mixed with affection. Anakin hugged his Master tighter, and the forgotten box of sweets fell onto the floor. 

"Oops," the boy bent over to pick the carton from the floor when a small white envelope flew from somewhere inside his tunic.

Both the Master and the Apprentice stared at the envelope, Obi-Wan more concerned because of Anakin's surprise than the envelope itself. Anakin picked it up carefully as though it might be something dangerous and unfolded it.

"Master, it's for you."

"Really?"

Anakin threw a confused look at him. Obi-Wan shrugged, took the note from the boy's hands and read it. 

[i]_Obi-Wan Kenobi._

_Dangerous things are going to happen at the Chancellor's next press conference. Attack is being planned. Be careful._

_Friend._[/i]

"At least they didn't write 'Dear Obi-Wan Kenobi' and 'yours faithfully'," Obi-Wan quipped looking the note over. "Do you know where you could get this?"

"Nope. I've never seen it before. I have no idea how it could get into my pocket," Anakin lied. 

In fact he guessed someone had put it there at the Senate building – many people had brushed past him while he walked to Palpatine's office. But he was suddenly reluctant to tell Obi-Wan he had been at the Senate. ~He has enough to worry about without me being out of the Temple without permission. Besides the Chancellor is my friend, and I have a right to be friends with anyone I want. And Master does not really need to know who I'm friends with… He doesn't like politicians… He might even forbid me visit the Chancellor. No, he needs not know.~

"Umm, Master, can a presence look… burnt through the Force?" Anakin made an awkward attempt to change subject. 

"Burnt? How so?" Obi-Wan tucked the note into the inner pocket of his tunic and looked at Anakin in puzzlement.

"I… I don't know. It just looked… like something has burned it."

"Are you sure? I never encountered anything like what you describe. Could you show me?"

Bewilderment showed in the boy's blue eyes.

"Through the bond," Obi-Wan clarified. "The way you showed me the picture of ancient knight. Can you?"

"I'll try…"

"Do or do not…" Obi-Wan started with a small smile that did nothing to hide his light frown.

"There's no try." They finished together. 

Anakin concentrated, trying to imagine the aura that had rattled him so. But the harder he tried the more vague the picture was – blurred, unstable. After ten minutes of tiring concentration Anakin gave up.

"I can't even remember it clearly," he confessed.

"Hmm," was all Obi-Wan said.

*********** ***********

"You knew!" A slim accusatory finger of Master Adi Gallia pointed at Master Mace Windu. Her cerulean eyes, accentuated with tanned lovely face and bizarre headdress, fulminated. "You knew there was another Sith and you kept it from the rest of the Council! You and Master Yoda – cursed conspirators!"

Mace Windu looked slightly pallid under the thunderstorm she brought down on him. The rage of this fragile woman was worse than a dozen space-pirates armed to the teeth and ready to fight. The beautiful councilwoman paced the marble floor of the Council room angrily throwing accusations and curses Mace doubted these walls – guards of the epitome of serenity and wisdom – ever heard before. 

"We…" Windu tried to interject, but was completely drowned out by Adi's strong contralto.

Master Gallia proceeded to fume, there was no stopping her, and Mace after several miserably failed attempts to calm her down had finally settled on simply waiting it out. The force of this frail woman was amazing, and Windu involuntarily remembered a certain imposing Jedi Master who was prone to throw up what looked whimsical outbursts in Mace's eyes. But compared to Jinn Adi was merely a quiet lamb much to Windu's contentment. Mace shuddered thinking what Qui-Gon would have said if he were here.

"Stop this you will," an unmistakable voice filled a small break when Adi paused to catch her breath, and both councillors turned to look at the new arrival.

"Master Yoda," Master Gallia said in a slightly more serene voice than just moments before – there were after all very few who dared to rage in his presence – but her fury was still barely under the surface if somewhat more controlled.

The diminutive Master hobbled slowly to his chair and made himself comfortable in it before looking up at Gallia with two round citrus eyes.

"Understand your anger I do. Rightful it is, though let it out like that you should not. Release it into the Force you should."

The woman had a grace to actually blush at such undisguised reproof when one of the oldest Jedi found it necessary to lecture her as though she were an initiate. 

"But Master Yoda, you two, the senior members of the Council, kept back the information about the Sith." Adi's voice was much quieter now, although it still had the edge and was now laced with ice, showing she was not going to give up easily. "Do you not trust the rest of the Council so much that you hide information?"

"Deplorable it is. True to their vows not all Jedi stay."

Adi lowered herself into a chair, dumbstruck. Her features sharpened as she tried to wrap her mind around the impossible. It didn't bring her any consolation that Mace looked just as stunned as she was.

"Do you imply that there is… a traitor? In the Council?"

Yoda inclined his head sadly in the way of an answer.

"B-but who? Who do you suspect?"

She was looking at the floor as though the elaborate interlacing of pastel design of the ancient marble held all the answers she wanted – and not wanted to hear.

"No one and everyone." Yoda sighed. "Even myself."

Adi looked up at him sharply – this was no time for joking. But there was no trace of mirth in the half-lidded yellow-green eyes. 

"A skilled puppeteer the Sith is. Manipulate everyone he does jerking the right strings. Sly and artful he is. The last year's Dark warrior simply one of his marionettes he was."

Taken aback as she was Adi could not keep from thinking that Master Yoda was in a way much like the Sith whose name they had just learned, manipulating the entire Jedi Order into doing what he thought right. But he was just a living being, mortal as everyone else. And he was not safeguarded against mistakes. 

Against her will a picture rose before her mind's eye, shaking, revolting – yet true, she was forced to admit: a large chess-board picturing the galaxy's map. Huge galaxy centres shining – tasty morsels: Coruscant and Corellia, Alderaan and Kuat, Ord Mantell, Ithor, Bothawui and sadly-known Naboo, Nal Hutta and Kessel, Mon Calamari, Bespin and even Tatooine. And at two sides of this gargantuan board were sitting Yoda and a figure obscured by darkness far deeper than any cloth could ever provide. They moved pawns, shuffled them playing a gambit of galaxy's fate. 

Cold feeling settled at the pit of Adi Gallia's stomach. She, like billions of unsuspecting creatures all over the vast galaxy, was merely a pawn in the hands of not Light and Darkness but of two players defending their beliefs.

She looked at Yoda, but the elderly Master didn't look at her immersed, it seemed, into his own thoughts, tracing invisible patterns on the marble floor with his gimer stick. 

"Stronger he is, more powerful."

"Stronger than the whole Jedi Order? Surely that can't be true," Mace spoke up protectively.

Adi thought that apparently his mind was unable to swing away from the well-trodden route. She, on contrary, was now less convinced in the Order's invincibility. 

"The Order's strength in unity it is. Yet forget about it we do."

"But I am positive that under direct attack the members of the Order will unite…" Windu was not about to give up.

"If there would be a direct attack," Adi corrected.

"What do you mean?"

"Right Master Gallia is. Smart he is, learning from his own mistakes he does. No second Maul there would be for now. Deplete the Order's strength he will first."

"And how exactly do you think that happens?"

"Lose our best we do. Lost two great Masters and a hopeful Padawan on the brink of knighting to the Sith last year we did."

"It would have been two Padawans if Obi-Wan Kenobi was less resourceful," Adi added. "And who knows how many more."

"Lose numerous Knights and Padawans over this year we also did. Lost Count Dooku to politics we have."

"But the Chosen One…"

~Yeah, right. When you have nothing to say you remember the Chosen One,~ Adi thought disdainfully.

"Little boy he still is. Clouded his future is."

Something in the wise Master's tone made Adi look at him carefully. Was that a trace of fear she detected? Of course not, that could not be. But the solid base of her worldview was now sorely shaken, cracked, and she was ready to accept even the facts she would have thought of as ridiculous only this morning. Still the imperturbable Yoda being afraid was something inconceivable. 

"Master Adi," Yoda's gruff voice broke into her thoughts, "a press conference the Chancellor has tomorrow. Go there you must."

"Wait a minute." Windu looked suddenly agitated. "If she goes there would be half the Council on that conference. Not counting about two dozen other Jedi. Are you sure it is necessary?"

"Necessary it is. Trouble I sense. Be careful, Master Adi, you should."

"I will." 

Adi stood up from her chair and walked to the door hoping that she looked much more confident and unwavering than she felt.

"May the Force be with you." She heard Yoda call after her before the heavy door shut close behind her back.

*********** **********

This morning on Kamino was as bleak and unwelcoming as any other morning here that crawled slowly and grudgingly through the oppressive veil of never-ceasing rain. Wan light of invisible sun painted dull shadows between smooth walls, lighting, it seemed, only the numerous domes of Tipoca city, leaving deep shade between them. The lowering weeping sky brought melancholy into hearts.

Jango Fett sat sprawled in a large bluish-white chair, watching absentmindedly as crystal-clear intertwining gushes of water streamed down the windowpane. The sight was sorrowful enough to make a sensitive soul cry. But Jango's mind was wandering very far away from hackneyed storm outside. 

Several minutes ago he had received a message from Tyranus. The man was demanding he come to Coruscant to the Chancellor's meeting Holonet had been trumpeting about for the whole week already. Jango was to kill a senator whose file Tyranus had sent along. What concerned the bounty hunter however were the words that his employer had said: 'kill him in a tumult.' 

And this supposed 'tumult' bothered him. Disorderly upheaval – and that was what Jango supposed Tyranus had meant – was not something usual for this kind of meetings. It implied that some kind of uproar is being prepared and that Tyranus was somehow connected to it all. It was paramount that Fett asked no questions that were not connected directly to his job – certainly no uncomfortable questions. But he was free to think through possibilities and make his own conclusions. And not once had this habit saved his life. 

Conclusions he had come to now were not very comforting. Judging from the amount of advertisement this meeting would be extremely well-guarded: Chancellor's security as well as that of every senator, Coruscanti police and most likely Jedi. 

Jedi. 

Jango let a small smile spread on his face. He had never seen a Jedi before though he had heard much of them. It might be curious. 

And much more dangerous.

It might be a challenge.

Involuntarily his thoughts wandered to another curious thing that had recently happened. Here, on Kamino, of all places. These Kaminoans – funny creatures – had apparently received a new order from their mysterious employer. Jango knew their employer was different from his but had no desire to try and find out who it was, incurring unnecessary trouble. The building his residence was located in was virtually upside down today, and generally composed Kaminoans were now unnaturally agitated – as far as they could look agitated at all. He had caught bits and pieces of conversations when he went to ask about his personal clone this morning. 

A look of disgust distorted his features for a moment. He hated that word – clone. 

As he gathered Kaminoans were requested to make yet another clone, but Jango was not to be the source for this one, which marginally surprised him. There was also something that bothered Kaminoans about the closeness of target date, although how close exactly it was Fett had no idea.

Glancing at a wrist-chrono Jango stood up. It was time to get on the move. Throwing one more look at his room that was intended to become his home yet had not the bounty hunter locked the door and started down the smooth pristine-white hall. A small, barely distinguishable smile kept tugging at the corners of his lips. They had said his personal clone – his copy, his son he never dreamed to have – would be waiting for him upon his return.

*********** ***********


	19. Chapter 19

Thanks, ewan's girl, here's more.

Thank you, Athena. Yes, Yoda and puppets… :)))

*********** ***********

Danger?!

Alarming quivering of Force broke the serenity. Obi-Wan stared intently into the murky depth of an unknown building – a warehouse by the looks of it, abandoned though not yet fallen into decay. Knowing on some subconscious level that it was simply a dream Obi-Wan wasn't surprised to find himself in the building he was sure he had never seen before and didn't know how he had gotten to.

"You have nothing to fear from me."

Startled by the soft voice the knight spun around in search of its source. A figure standing before him was just slightly darker than the walls behind it, representing a shaded silhouette. It seemed to be woven from the very darkness surrounding it and concealing its contours. Black cloak seemed to grow from the floor to hug the figure in soft and flowing embrace. Lowered hood obscured the face.

"Who are you?"

He knew the answer, of course, how could he not? But he needed time. Time to come to terms with what was presented before him. 

Eyes sparkled from under the midnight-black hood in laughter.

"I like your question, but you are not going to like my answer… my son."

"I am not your son. You being my biological father means nothing." Or did it? No, it did not!

"Oh, really? Then why are you so nervous about it?" The voice was insinuating and just barely ironic.

"I'm not…" Obi-Wan started defensively. Sidious raised a hand to silence him.

"My dear boy, lie to everyone else all you want but never lie to yourself. And don't try to lie to me because you're an open book for me."

"You read my mind like I'm nothing," exasperation leaked into Kenobi's cultured voice.

"There is nothing in your mind for you to be ashamed of – you are innocent and pure in your soul – as much as anyone can be at your age. But if you desire to preserve your privacy I won't violate you."

"Really? Why, thank you very much." Obi-Wan's voice was now dripping with sarcasm he cared not to hide. 

The head under the voluminous hood lowered a little. The Jedi looked at his unlikely companion as though trying to peek behind the shadows surrounding the Sith.

"You don't trust me." It wasn't a question. 

"Trust you?" Obi-Wan laughed, and there was no mirth or affection in this laugh. "You're a Sith."

"Never knew Jedi to be so inclined to prejudice. You judge me while you know nothing about me or my deeds, or my reasons. Where is your honor, oh Jedi Knight?"

"Of what honor do you speak? You are a murderer."

"Me? And whom exactly did I murder? Please, enlighten me."

Obi-Wan hesitated for just a moment, "Qui-Gon."

A small bitter pause was broken by the voice that had suddenly acquired a tint of kindness very in discord with the image of the Sith Lord.

"I am sorry for your loss." Obi-Wan shot Sidious a glare showing he did not believe the man could know anything about being sorry. "But as you are well aware Darth Maul was the one to deliver the death blow. If I were there I would have stopped him – I respect Qui-Gon Jinn too much. Though you must admit that his death was honorable…"

"You watched us then. You could stop him if you wanted."

"No, no. Unfortunately I could not. My power was enough to watch but not enough to intervene. Regrettably Maul was young and headstrong."

"He was a killing machine!"

"Not good enough, apparently." The image of a caring sympathizer wavered for a moment as a tinge of displeasure seeped into Sidious' voice. But it was gone almost before Kenobi could register it. "Your loss is great, but you robbed me of my apprentice."

Obi-Wan snorted, "Just don't tell me you loved him."

"In some way I did…"

"Lies again."

"He was a sentient being." The tone became almost reproachful. "I am too. We are not devoid of feelings. And unlike Jedi we do not strive to hide them."

"What feelings? Anger, hatred…"

"Love. I once loved your mother. And my son. I still love him and want to get to know him better. Think of it."

The pure darkness of the dream dissolved into the lighter, less heavy and oppressing darkness of the familiar bedroom in the Jedi Temple – Obi-Wan's own bedroom. The dream was gone, leaving muffled feelings and uncertainty behind. Blue-green eyes, dark with night's faint light of nocturnal Coruscant, glided habitually over the shelves, noting vague glistening of every metal edge and carve of holo-readers, data-chips and other things scattered there in artistic confusion to rest finally on the ceiling. 

For several following hours Obi-Wan battled his own curiosity until the smoky veil of pre-dawn slumber covered his tired mind with peace.

*********** **********

"Master, can I go with you?"

Anakin, sitting on a sofa in the common room of their apartment with one leg tucked under him and another dangling – not yet long enough to touch the floor – presented an embodiment of child's innocence and plea. But Obi-Wan wasn't going to buy it this time.

"No, Padawan, I can't take you there."

"But why?" The boy was visibly trying to keep the wining notes out of his words, but with his voice being childishly thin these attempts failed almost completely.

Obi-Wan paused sifting through the data-pads on a shelf and turned to look at Anakin.

"It is too dangerous. You are not yet skillful enough to take care of yourself if the situation gets out of hands."

"And I think you don't want to take me because you don't want to have a kid around," Anakin stated matter-of-factly.

Obi-Wan hid a smile at the boy's exaggeratedly serious to the point of being comical look. Finally finding the data-pad he had been searching for the knight picked it from the shelf, walked to Anakin and squatted in front of him.

He was choosing what to say carefully. He could say it was the order from the Council. Surely the Padawan would be forced to comply if that was the case. But… There were always buts in using the Council's name. Firstly it would be an outward lie – something he hadn't done to Anakin before and had no real desire to start doing. He remembered how much he hated it when his own Master lied to him – when he knew it was a lie – and he had no doubt that Anakin would sense deception. Secondly the Council was already an opposing force for the boy and no matter how much Obi-Wan disliked them himself it would not do to raise Anakin's hostility towards them.

"Anakin, if something happens there I will be worrying about you…"

"But, Master, why are you so sure something _will _happen?"

Obi-Wan sighed inwardly. ~Another one. Am I condemned to always be the one sensing trouble ahead?~

"I sense something… And that note…"

Anakin made a disregarding grunt.

"It might be just a joke someone played on you."

"Perhaps…" Obi-Wan said thoughtfully. "But I rather take it as a warning. I can't let you go."

"Master Obi-Wan, please." 

Crystal blue eyes framed with golden lashes looked pleadingly. Obi-Wan's resolve melted under this look..

"All right. But be careful and attentive." Obi-Wan ruffled Anakin's hair fondly, trying to mask a sudden unease that had taken hold of him.

"I will not take a step away from you," the boy promised happily.

"No," the Master said sharper than he intended, and Anakin jumped in surprise. "If something happens – anything – you will stay where is safe."

Anakin nodded in consent.

"And no bending the orders," Obi-Wan added half-sternly half-jokingly.

*********** ***********

Day was slowly molding into evening with colours becoming less bright and rich, more muted and pastel. This part of Coruscant – the part where magnificent building reserved for senatorial receptions pierced the sky with the single tall spire – was finishing the day's cycle, ready to make a slow, almost unnoticeable to busy citizens transfer from the blinding radiance of day to no less blinding luster of night, filled with artificial illumination. But the building sparkling with countless tall windows and glass galleries remained oblivious to the closing nightfall and to the peaceful quality of this one hour of transition when day died and night claimed its rights. 

The insides of the building shone with light and buzzed with conversations – hushed and not. Various groups, consisting of all species found throughout the galaxy, littered the covered with precious carpets floors. People and aliens wove their meandering paths through the rooms and galleries, stopping here and there in their restless endeavour to be a part of the high society. Simple and somber dresses mingled with variegated and exotic ones. 

All corners available were occupied by talking beings. One such corner held two cozily looking chairs, occupied at the time by a black-haired man in intricately embroidered suit and a woman in a less pretentious dress, which however looked fitting, giving her owner an air of fresh inartificial beauty. The man was known as Prince Bail Organa of Alderaan – the new senatorial representative of his homeworld after the untimely death of his predecessor and uncle – Tabil Organa. The woman was well-known as Palpatine's aide – Nais Kobierta.

"I see the Chancellor has started a crush here again," Bail quipped peevishly, stretching out in his chair and letting out puffs with a hookah – the substitute for pipe and cigars that had recently come into fashion. "As though there are not enough of senators around here each of them has a whole retinue of assistants…"

Nais, sitting next to him with her legs crossed, hemmed, "One might think you don't have assistants."

"Of course, I do." Bail was imperturbable. "And frankly speaking I don't know how to get away from them. But not only all these assistants rush about like rats in a cellar, not only heaps of security saunter through the house but a whole assembly of Jedi has gathered around."

Something in his tone made Nais look at him carefully.

"What it is about the Jedi that doesn't please you?"

"Those fanatics who think themselves better than everybody else because, you see, they have the Force and no one else does? They have locked themselves in that temple of theirs, shut the rest of the world out and perform some rites they think out."

"Yeah, right. Maybe you'll say they kidnap children and eat them?"

"No, of course, not." Bail smiled ironically, putting the hookah aside on a low table that was standing next to his chair. He took two goblets from the tray a passing waiter carried and handing one of them to Nais sipped the ruby-red wine from his. "Wonderful wine! No, I'm not so uneducated and liable to superstitions to believe in such nonsense. But you must admit that they with their behavior cause such rumors spread through the lowest layers of society – of which there is a majority. Unlike them, you and me, we belong to the highest standing of the upper crust."

With a hint of surprise Nais noticed how easily his hand lowered onto her shoulder, slightly brushing the soft velvety skin as though he was not aware of it. But, of course, he was. Politicians were always aware of their deeds. Her eyes shoot to the sides checking if Palpatine was around. She knew full well that the young careless prince would be very sorry if the Chancellor saw them. But he was nowhere to be seen and Nais heaved a sigh of relief. 

"So what was I speaking about? Ah, yes, you and me belong to the highest caste of the society and we've got enough of education, sense of fashion, common sense after all to not believe the fallacies born in masses, but," he lifted a finger calling for attention. Nais noted that he had already clicked into his speech mode and would not stop any time soon. "the greater part of populace is prone to believing whatever they hear. And this places the Jedi into a rather vulnerable position."

"Perhaps you are right, but we were speaking about something else."

"Really? And what was it?"

"We were talking about your personal attitude toward the Jedi. You called them fanatics…"

"That's right. What else would you call their obstinate adherence to that mysterious Force if not fanaticism? From the early childhood they are a part of society that teaches them to think in a certain way, to act in different situations the way their Code dictates them. Their Council is a incontestable authority for them. The Council that relies in their judgment on the same mythical Force."

"So you think that the Force does not exist?" 

Nais tried her best to say it impassibly, despite her efforts a bit of irony leaked into her voice. Bail as a true politician immediately picked up on the subtle hint.

"So you do believe in it?"

"I've seen its workings," she said, trying to sound as casual as her suddenly constricted throat would let her."

"Well then, I'm afraid I cannot take anything on trust until I get an incontestable proof."

Nais was about to object, but at that moment a person entered room – a person whom she both did not expect and waited for. She had been wondering all night if the recipient of her had gotten the note and what he would do if he had. And whether he had gotten it or not Obi-Wan Kenobi was here. A fleeting thought crossed her mind that he looked even better in life than he did in HoloNet's reports.

"Oh, and there goes one of the notorious Jedi," Bail quipped acidly.

Nais turned to him sharply.

"What exactly it is you so dislike Jedi for?" she asked.

"I don't concede with some of their politics, including taking children from their families," Organa replied smoothly. "But I think we now have a unique chance to hear the opinion of a Jedi on the matter."

"I don't think…" Nais started to say, but Bail was already waving at Kenobi, calling him over.

The Jedi approached. Bowed.

"Senator Organa, miss Kobierta."

Bail sent Nais a look that clearly said, _He knows our names. Unimaginable!_ "And you would be…"

"Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Organa assumed a pose of an over-free and capricious prince, waving his hand slightly in a finical manner. Nais raised her brows at the act.

"So tell us, Master Kenobi, what do you think about Jedi taking children from their families."

"I beg your pardon."

"Oh, the lady and me were talking about Jedi and this particular aspect of their politics. We'd love to hear your opinion as a person intimately familiar with these affairs. Do you miss your family?"

The last sentence was spoken in a harsher voice as Bail let his true feelings show through the façade. Obi-Wan didn't seem to be rattled in a slightest however.

"The Order is our family."

"And you don't ever think about you father and mother, never try to guess what they're doing now?"

Unbidden an image of this young man thinking about Palpatine as his father came into Nais' mind, and she felt a cold touch of shiver run up her spine. They were too different. They could not possibly be relatives.

And yet they were.

"With all due respect, Senator, none of that is your concern," Kenobi stated coldly.

He sketched a shallow bow, turned on his heels and left.

*********** ***********


	20. Chapter 20

Thank you, Athena. To answer your review on Rematch. That story is an outlet for a number of ideas swarming in my head that have finally accumulated into something writable. This story, on contrary, is carefully thought through. I've put much effort into it and I'm not going to forsake it - ever.

Thank you, Alex112. Hope you don't get disappointed. 

************ ***********

Cold blue eyes watched the creatures assembled in vast and generously decorated hall of the building reserved for senatorial meetings, sliding from one variegated group to another. The piercing gaze sent shudders through those it was trained at, and not one of gathered creatures – senators or their aides, guards or Jedi – had looked around in vague uneasiness, wondering if an open window or not quite shut door had brought in a surge of chill air. 

But shadowed icy-blue eyes didn't stay long on all those pawns – some useful at times, others useless. They traveled across the spacious room, seeking their predefined targets. 

The eyes stayed briefly on a small group of Jedi councilors. Two women there attracted immediate attention: both stately, with their heads held high, both had wisdom shining in their beautiful eyes. Both draped in those odious Jedi cloaks. Sapphire and hazel eyes. Adi Gallia and Depa Billaba. One of them would die, the other… 

Their two companions were a mockery to the beauty of those magnificent women. Two aliens were a caricature pair: tall, ghostly-pale bulb-headed Poof and his miniature pink humanoid companion Piell. But despite their appearances all four were the Jedi High Council members and therefore very dangerous. No, three were dangerous. And the fourth… the fourth would soon fall prey to the unrestrained ambitions and fully become the humble servant of Darth Sidious.

The eyes turned away from them and resumed their search.

Their gaze fell onto a senator whose future had been defined by the straight order that brooked no objections. The senator would die. The Sith Lord had looked through multiple possibilities swarming the intricate net of the Force and chose the way, which would lead to utter elimination of the offending senator. Unless… 

There had been an unstable factor. But he had made arrangements that would prevent that factor from intervening. The senator was condemned.

Blue eyes spotted another target – the woman he could not – quite – determine his feelings for. She was an offence, she was a danger. And she was the beauty. He could desire that woman of the Jedi, but this one, Nais Kobierta, was his. And he was not willing to give her up. In spite of her being a threat. She deserved death, yet he could not let go of her. She was open for him, in any way possible. He had seen her soul, knew her most intimate secrets. And yet she was a mystery. And he could not determine her place in the scheme. 

This sense of unknown made him angry at times, and that anger supplemented his power. At other times it gave him the unique sense of close yet controlled danger, of adrenalin surging through his veins. That woman was the treasure. A gemstone in his hands.

A sparkle of jealousy colored his eyes a darker shade as he saw his woman – his discovery, his possession – next to that mannered upstart Bail Organa. Did he really think he could touch her like that and get away with it? Sidious forcefully gripped one of the curtains hiding him. ~How dare he?!~ Wintry eyes blazed with fury.

Then abruptly the sinister calmness returned. Organa was doomed. Fett knew his job inside out. There was no use to waste anger on the one who was already dead, even though he was not yet aware of it.

A new person clad in traditional Jedi robes – complimenting him, implausible as it was – entered the room though the door on the other side, and the Dark Lord's attention immediately shifted to this new arrival. A small smile froze on his lips as he watched not even sure why he was smiling. Sidious, hidden in deep shade of heavy drapes watched Obi-Wan Kenobi's every move, caught his every expression. It was the first time the Chancellor looked at him not as at a Jedi Knight but as his son, his flesh and blood. And for the first time in his life as a Sith he was hesitant to approach. 

Sidious watched and compared the young man before him to his mother – thin lips curled in a semi-agonized, semi-furious grimace as he remembered Alionna who had once bore the name Palpatine. And the more he compared the more resemblance he saw, wondering how in the stars could he have missed it before. 

Was he as blind as those weaklings – Jedi?

Jedi… 

His son was a Jedi. But that was remediable.

~Soon, my son. Soon you will learn the whole power of the Force. You will come to me. And your journey to me will start when you receive my present. Soon, very soon… Just a bit more time to make everything ready.~

His eyes were still locked on the young man who remained oblivious to the observation. That pose, slight turning of his head as he spoke… She used to do it exactly the same way. 

She…

She of the golden hair that always seemed to shimmer with sunlight. She of the warm laughing eyes that seemed to gaze deep into his soul. She. 

Sidious shook his head driving the charming image away. She was no more. And he, that youth who had fallen in love with her so thoughtlessly, was no more either. They were both dead, buried in the half-forgotten memories, forever hidden in the past. 

But enough watching.

Deciding it was time to step onto the scene Sidious moved out of the shadows transforming into Palpatine as he went. The transition wasn't physical, it didn't touch his light brown, now mostly gray hair, it didn't touch his ornate clothes, the alteration occurred on a more delicate layer. The expression on his face changed from closed, fear inducing to a more open and benevolent. Frost-covered eyes took on an expression of cordial affability. By the time he reached the nearest lit place the mask was firmly in place hiding the imaginary fangs – the fangs a Sith should have according to Jedi's absurd stories.

Palpatine directed his steps to the small gathering of those Darth Sidious had been watching. They had shifted their position and now stood almost in the middle of the spacious room, obviously having a fierce argument. 

Organa was visibly agitated, waving his hands trying to get his point known. Palpatine let his brow quirk in amusement. If only the young senator knew how ridiculously he looked… 

The object of Organa's agitation – agitation, tinted in the Force with a fair share of irritation – stood calmly before him. Obi-Wan looked far more controlled, though Sidious could sense his displeasure with Organa through the Force, painting his aura an aggressive orange. He stood with his arms across his chest. The only visible sign of Kenobi's discomfort was the slight twitching of fingers. Organa was oblivious.

Nais stood next to them, being apparently a participant of the argument. But she maintained silence, perhaps waiting for Organa to exhaust himself. Wise woman…

"Now, now, what are these sparks all about?" Palpatine asked in the voice he used for semi-official cases – sweet, slightly amused without any offence.

"Good evening, Chancellor." Organa's voice immediately dropped a few notches, becoming more controlled. "We were simply discussing the nuances of family life."

"Oh, what an interesting topic." ~What an interesting topic indeed.~

Out of the corner of his eye Palpatine caught the look Nais shot him and frowned inwardly. What could that look mean? Did she know something?

*********** **********

Count Dooku always contributed his strife for elegance and refined dressing to his noble birth, to the genes he had inherited from his great and patrician ancestors along with his aristocratic visage. And now he couldn't help dressing with all the noble style and taste he possessed though he guessed he was not a welcome sight for many of those present. He was after all a former Jedi, and while some made the stress on the word 'former' – including the snobbish and narrow-minded Council members – others still counted him as a Jedi. The latter were usually those who either openly opposed Jedi – not that the members of the Order acknowledged them – or disliked the Jedi secretly. 

As a matter of fact the Count had been pretty much surprised to find out that there were so many in opposition to the Jedi Order. At first he had been rattled and annoyed by any such display of aversion. He had been protective of his second family…

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he remembered one certain member of that family. A little mischievous child he had become a lanky youth with obstinate and strong character, then the imposing Jedi Master… And then he had died.

"Qui-Gon, Qui-Gon, my Padawan. Why did you have to leave so early?"

All traces of smile died away, leaving the stern face. Yes, he had been protective of his family… until one particular mission. Until he looked from the outside. What he had seen shook him to the core and turned everything upside down. 

The Order was rotten inside out. The Jedi were merely servants in political games. And he had realized that he could no longer be a part of this system. With the death of his former Padawan one of the strongest binds that tied him to the Order had been broken, and he had found the way to tear all other bonds and relinquish his career as a Jedi Knight. 

He no longer wished to be called a Jedi. He wanted no connection to them.

And now he was here trying to find the Sith. Trying to spare those fools. For what else were they if not the fools? They had almost thrown out the Chosen One – their hope. If not for Qui-Gon's apprentice… What was his name? Kenobi. If not for Kenobi the Order would have lost the boy.

Kenobi. 

Dooku scowled.

They had let the greenhorn raise the precious child!

"Even Yoda has become a fool, even Yoda." The Count was sure no one heard his softly spoken words. Although someone could start wondering who the elderly man might be talking to.

Dooku definitely didn't like the situation when the absolutely inexperienced Jedi Knight – moreover a typical product of the Jedi system – trained someone as unique as the Chosen One. And the Count would not let this situation to last much longer. 

If everything went as planned his men would relive Kenobi of his duty, and unless Yoda has enough presence of mind to give the boy a worthy teacher Dooku would train the Chosen One himself. It would be his last gift to his former apprentice.

And Kenobi… Kenobi was rumored to grieve much for his deceased Master, so why not help the two meet again?

Wiping a small crooked smile from his face the Count turned his thoughts onto other matters. Funny how everything turned out. The mighty Jedi Order had become a pawn in political affairs. And he, Dooku, had become a Sith-hunter as Brimar sometimes called him jokingly.

Brimar.

He was an old friend. Dooku frowned. Perhaps he shouldn't have talked to him that way. But as an old friend he would forgive. Brimar had no pretence in him, no pomposity the Jedi possessed yet he was a professional – the kind of men Dooku valued. And he was as good a friend as Dooku could hope to find. 

The Count's gaze glided over the large room – so lost in tiny cozy alcoves and unexpected drapes the room was its shape was undeterminable. The keen gaze of the experienced politician and field operative noted every detail with false negligence. Until it came to rest on a small figure of a little boy who had just entered the blue and purple decorated room. 

Dooku needed not much time to recognize the boy, and he swore under his breath.

"What kind of a brainless son of a Sith had brought the Chosen One here?!"

The boy looked slightly lost yet determined to show everyone he knew exactly what he was doing and that he was on his rightful place. Dooku got up and quickly walked over to him. 

"Hello, my friend," Dooku's voice was deep and kind, soothing with its rich tinges.

The boy's head shot up, and he looked at the towering man with slight frown.

"Are we acquainted?"

Dooku almost laughed at the exaggerated seriousness of the boy's high-pitched voice but quickly schooled his features.

"No, I don't think so. I'm Count Dooku."

"Anakin Skywalker." 

"Nice to meet you, Anakin. I heard much good about you."

"Really?" Was it suspicion Dooku sensed?

"Yes, I did. I am Qui-Gon Jinn's former Master."

"Wow, are you?" Dooku nodded. "Wizard! You are Jedi too?! Could you tell me about him?" All restraints Anakin had put on himself seemed to be blown away at the mentioning of Qui-Gon's name. "Master Obi-Wan doesn't tell me much about Qui-Gon." He added with a hint of sadness and slight complint.

"Why what do you think?" Dooku put a hand on the boy's shoulder a guided him gently to the alcove he had occupied minutes earlier.

"Umm… I don't know. Perhaps he doesn't want to share him with me… Master Obi-Wan didn't like me much at first…"

~Hmm, interesting.~ Dooku thought. ~This might be useful.~

He was about to say something when a powerful explosion shook the building, tearing off the plaster and causing some statues fall to the floor and smash in marble splinters. Dooku quickly put Anakin behind his back, trying to find the safest way out. Commotion grew, then the first tidal wave of panic washed over his senses. Anakin behind him tensed.

"Master Obi-Wan is there somewhere!"

************ ************


	21. Chapter 21

Thank you, Athena. As it turns out Sidious/Palpatine is one of the main characters of this story – couldn't allow him to be portrayed badly. :-)

Thanks, ewan's girl. Obi-Wan is indeed popular, and the farther we go the more wanted he becomes. The question is who is going to get him. ;-) 

************ ***********

"So, do you imply that you are not curious about your family in the slightest?" asked Palpatine who had somewhat unexpectedly taken the side of Bail Organa in the argument that Supreme Chancellor deemed worthy interfering into.

Since being shifted into the middle of the large room the argument had grown to a full blown assembly as many senators found it tempting to bug a Jedi on his opinion of family. Family, after all, was a fundamental cell of society, and the tradition of taking children from their parents' care so widely practiced by the Jedi boggled many minds.

The argument between Bail Organa and Obi-Wan Kenobi had spouted a number of small conversations, leaving Obi-Wan facing Bail and Palpatine with a ring of spectators surrounding them and an even wider ring of those having their own discussions.

"Not at all, Chancellor," the Jedi replied calmly, though on the inside he was starting to lose his patience. What right did they have to ask him such things? Politicians…

For a second Obi-Wan's magnetic blue-green eyes locked with pale, as though discoloured, eyes of Palpatine, glancing something in their spooky depths. A tight feeling of unease stirred deep in the Jedi's stomach, making him wonder, but the sensation was so fleeting, so brief he wasn't quite able to grasp it, let alone understand its origins.

The group of curious senators now gathered around the debaters was trying to bring in their own assumptions and opinions, more for the sole purpose of being heard than anything else – much to Obi-Wan's annoyance. He had never been an appreciator of loud crowds, preferring quiet contemplations and organized even when heated debates, and now felt like he was being undressed in front of everyone. 

He looked around at the shouting mob. They had no idea what they were speaking about. Most of them – if not all – had been raised in prosperous families and had a right to be proud of their clans. They could not consider growing up without their families, and they could not consider giving their children away. Amidst their circle Obi-Wan had quickly found himself being hopelessly outnumbered.

The knight shot an annoyed look to Organa, who had started all this, but the senator demonstratively ignored it.

"What I meant to say is that I know enough of my family, as knowing about them is not prohibited, and that the Jedi Order has become my family even more so than the first one," Obi-Wan continued.

A Bothan senator accidentally jogged Obi-Wan distracting him for a moment. And thus the Jedi Knight didn't see a look of unmasked displeasure and hatred that evanescently lit Palpatine's eyes – hatred directed at the Order the Chancellor's now-opponent belonged to.

"But I must draw your attention to the fact that from ancient times blood bonds were considered the strongest and most influential in a person's life. Don't you agree with that?" Palpatine's quiet voice was powerful enough to pass the entire hubbub to let the words reach the ears of the one they were intended for.

It felt like all other senators were shut out suddenly, leaving the two – the Chancellor and the Jedi – the Sith and his son – alone for their argument. Eyes locked again. A weird feeling returned coiling in Obi-Wan's stomach like a heavy cold snake. And still he could not grasp it. Just a moment more, and he would have caught that feeling. Just a second…

"Excuse me, Chancellor," a voice broke Obi-Wan's attempts, and the notion slipped away, unrecognized.

Palpatine wrinkled his nose unnoticeably in displeasure and turned to address the man who had had enough insolence to intrude.

"Excuse me, Chancellor," the man repeated. "But you requested to be informed when the senators you indicated gather."

"Ah, yes, I did."

~Pity.~

The unspoken word hung in the air, adding to the heavy atmosphere of creatures arguing. 

~So many emotions. They have no limit in expressing them. Jedi at least have some discipline. These… these are worth for only ruling them. Slimes.~

With a quick swipe of his gaze Palpatine surveyed the variegated group, seeking the people who meant to him more than all the senators around. Obi-Wan was obviously very irritated by Organa – the bright flashes of venomous red and orange in his Force-aura were indication to that – but kept a mask of serenity firmly plastered on his face. 

Organa, on the other hand, was more and more burning with enthusiasm – and a good deal of irritation too, Palpatine noted with smug satisfaction. He never liked Organa really. But that wouldn't be a problem much longer.

Nais… Wait a minute, where was Nais? The woman had been able to slip away unnoticed. Palpatine frowned. What was that intriguer up to? He was getting increasingly concerned about her – and that never ended well for the target of his concerns.

The observation took no more than a second. The Chancellor excused himself and followed the messenger. The noisy group didn't seem to notice his departure.

"Pardon me. Master Kenobi, could I speak to you, please?"

A female calm voice drowned out the senators' shouting easily.

"Of course, Master Billaba." Never in his life was Obi-Wan more glad to see the Councilor.

He quickly nudged his way through the crowd, giving excuses as he went, and joined the stately woman outside the agitated circle. She took him by the elbow and led away. Once they were out of the earshot Depa stopped and regarded the younger Jedi with a small smile.

"Thank you for rescuing me, Master Depa." A matching smile lit Obi-Wan's features. "I thought I'd never get out of there."

"You're welcome, Obi-Wan."

A frowned crossed the younger Jedi's face and drew a line between his brows.

"Have you seen Anakin? He should be somewhere around."

"No, I…" The woman's face abruptly darkened, her features sharpening. Her hand lowered to rest on the hilt of her lightsaber. "Do you feel it too?"

A sharp sense of impending disaster struck the Jedi's feelings, making them tense and look around for the yet invisible threat.

Next moment an explosion shook the building, sending shreds of glass and plaster raining down onto the scared senators, their no less scared aides and their guards most of whom had taken protecting positions around their respective employers who were ducking behind their wide backs, shaking with fear. 

"Anyone hurt?" Obi-Wan called out and received a dissonant choir of denial.

"I'll go that way," Depa said pointing to her right. After a nodded acknowledgment from Obi-Wan she took off in that direction.

With a swift look around the room to confirm that no one got hurt Obi-Wan ran back to where Depa had rescued him moments prior. The bomb had exploded somewhere close to that part of the building. Chaos ensued here in the midst of several fallen pillars, crashed statues and shattered windows. Ostracized drapes covered the parqueted floor with crimson pools of fabric, creating an odd sense of blood spilled. Muffled moans sounded from every direction, slicing at the Jedi's heart.

Terrified cries filled the air with shrill cacophony of panic. Obi-Wan struggled to keep his senses keen under the powerful onslaught of so many strong emotions but was forced to strengthen his shields lest his brain gets overloaded. He paused for a moment looking around with sudden uncertainty.

Anakin. The Padawan was his first priority…

Yet his duty was also to help everyone he could. And there were many who needed help.

Abruptly everything started to remind him of his dream – that long forgotten dream when he ran to save his Padawan, when he fell into the bottomless abyss himself. Despite the heat Obi-Wan shuddered. For a split second he felt himself in that dreadful forest again. The Jedi opened his eyes wide to break the illusion. This was no forest. And Anakin was in no danger, was he?

Closing his eyes Obi-Wan reached out to Anakin through their bond, finding it filled with sheer panic – with fear for him. He hurried to send calming waves of Force through the bond. To his relief there was no trace of hurt in the Padawan's Force signature. If any harm came to Anakin… Obi-Wan clenched his teeth at the thought.

/It'll be all right, Padawan. Don't be afraid./

/Master, where are you?!/ Anakin's mental voice sounded more scared than Obi-Wan had ever heard it.

/I'm fine, Anakin. Take care of yourself, please. I'll be with you shortly./

What came back to him was suspiciously resembling a sob. Sending one more wave of warmth and reassurance to the distraught boy Obi-Wan opened his eyes and started to where his duty laid – to help the innocent who had gotten caught in the explosion.

And so focussed was he on his duty, on quelling himself that Anakin would be save that he failed to notice three men following him like shadows, moving stealthily through the debris.

*********** **********

The halls – formerly so full of decorated glory, filled with stuffed air of arrogance and ostentation and prideful ignorance – were now basked in greyish black wreaths of acrid smoke. Here and there creatures of different species littered the floor like broken dolls left by a careless child. By this time they were being taken care of by numerous saviours and rescue teams that had mysteriously invaded the building – someone must have had placed a call to Coruscant security forces. 

Obi-Wan spared precious moments to visually check on every single person as he went. This slowed him down considerably, yet he managed to keep a swift pace. Thus occupied he failed to notice the three figures following him as persistently as shadows. 

Crimson drapes still covered some of the alcoves along the halls, billowing on the wind that broken windows could not hinder. Obi-Wan strode purposefully past them – until suddenly a hand reached out and grabbed his arm. In a moment of stunned surprise the hand pulled forcefully, dragging him inside the alcove, hiding behind heavy velvet curtains. The drapes wavered, then stilled behind him.

"Wha…" he started only to be silenced by a hand, placed firmly over his mouth. 

"Sh-h-h," the dark silhouette of a person whispered. "Look!"

Drapes were parted slightly, just enough to give a confined view of the hall. Three men in dark grey imperceptible clothes were walking down the hall. They turned their heads around obviously in search for something – or someone.

The drapes closed, leaving Obi-Wan and his unexpected mysterious saviour alone in the thick shade of the small alcove.

"Do you know who they are?" Obi-Wan struggled to see his counterpart but only succeeded in discerning a cloaked figure slightly smaller than himself.

"No, but they were following you. Perhaps he has sent them…"

"'He' who?"

A hint of hesitation flowed in the air. Eyes gleamed from under the hood.

"Your father." The words were spoken in quick breath as though the speaker was wishing for them to be left unheard.

"My… father?! You know him? He… how he?.. what does he?.." Obi-Wan stumbled unable to form the questions to sate the almost painful curiosity that had surged up in him.

The cloaked shadow sighed. "He is an awful man, Jedi Kenobi." The words held the depth of knowledge in them – the knowledge Obi-Wan doubted he wanted to uncover and bring out into light. 

"Who are you?" he asked instead of trying to pry any more information about Sidious. Obi-Wan had scanned the person with the Force and came to a conclusion that it wasn't someone familiar to him. "Why did you help me?"

The Jedi heard another barely audible sigh, almost drowned out by the quiet rustle of cloth as his saviour shifted.

"You are in a big trouble. More than you know," came the whispered elusive answer.

~Trouble!~ The word sparked the anxiety in him, making him tense. ~Explosion. People!~ 

"I need to get to the epicenter of the explosion. I must help…"

"Jedi!" The gamma of feelings mixed in this one word was incomprehensible: a faint mockery and disdain, slight irritation and, just possibly, admiration. Obi-Wan raised his brows at this – a gesture that had definitely gone unnoticed.

"Look, I really need to get there. The Chancellor…"

"Is safe and sound. He's the last you should worry about. All right, I'm not your nanny to cradle you, after all. Go if you must. But be very careful. HE wants to get you – and he is the one who always gets what he wants."

"Are you talking about my father? Wait a minute! Tell me more about him!" he almost shouted in a yet another painful peak of curiosity as the figure moved to the depth of the alcove away from him. A finger touched his lips again.

"Be quiet. I know some secret passages here…"

A hand took his hand lightly, leaving him a possibility to stay if he chose so, and lead into the dry obscurity of the alcove. Several steps later meager light of a single muted glowrod cut the darkness, illuminating a long winding tunnel. The light was still not enough to reveal the identity of Obi-Wan's cagey guide, falling softly onto the folds of dark hooded cloak.

"Who are you?" Obi-Wan asked again, feeling he would not get the answer this time either. But to his surprise the answer came, however cryptic.

"A friend."

"You…"

"Sent the warning note. Hope you got it."

"I did, but I…" He shook his head. "I don't understand anything. What is going on?"

"You are a mot stuck in a carefully schemed web. Think through your every step unless you want to get devoured alive or worse – become like your father."

Before Obi-Wan could come up with anything to say the scarcely lit tunnel abruptly ended leading the two into yet another alcove.

"Go and fulfill your duty, Jedi."

Obi-Wan moved to part the drapes. 

"And take good care," the figure said aloud. It was a female voice – and Obi-Wan had a nagging feeling he had heard this voice not too long ago. But when he turned to address the woman she was already gone – melted away like a wisp of morning mist.

Suddenly filled with a sense of urgency the Jedi drew the heavy curtains apart and stepped out into living hell.

*********** ***********


	22. Chapter 22

Thanks everyone for reviewing. Unfortunately I don't have time for personal responses. Sorry for the confusion with the previous chapter. Now let's return to the story.

************ ***********

The firm hand of the Count steered Anakin through magnificent halls towards an exit to one of the numerous landing platforms. 

As they went the Padawan looked around with haunted eyes. The sight was not something he had seen in the ten boisterous years of his less than simple and normal life. He had seen many atrocities on Tatooine as they were usual for that place – atrocities and cruelty and slavery. They were common like dust under the feet. But here on Coruscant, in the very heart of the Republic, next to the Jedi Temple, it seemed ugly like a scorched mar on a shining smooth surface of an agile starfighter – impossible and disappointing. Somehow it touched his perfect vision of Coruscant, his sparkling dream of metropolitan life. It occurred to him that life – and death – here were just the same as on Tatooine; the same pain, the same blood. 

Thus it was not this scene that so distressed him, it was the loss of the ideal picture he had created and dutifully sustained for as long as he could remember himself – the picture of the better life. Yet along with this dull disappointment, coupled with the unceasing worry for his Master, another feeling raised – something his mother had instilled in him from infantry – compassion. 

"Sir?" he addressed the tall man timidly, yet his voice held an underlying conviction to it. 

Dooku, who was walking tensely, forced to restrain his long-legged strides, stopped to regard his small companion. 

"What is it?"

"Shouldn't we be helping?" The boy swept his arm in a wide motion.

Dooku looked at the scene around them as if such thought never occurred to him. The young Padawan looked up at the old man with expectance written all over his roundish features. The Count looked down at him, deciding what to do. 

An image of another boy rose unbidden before his eyes – an apparition of another child looking up at him with the same expectation in the blue eyes, full of boundless trust. The vision – this shadowy ghost of the past – brought a pang of sweet pain, which though soon turned into a heart-tearing agony as the vision of that promising child transformed into a sight of a great Jedi Master, the Master who was now one with the Force.

On an impulse, Dooku knelt before this new promising child and looked deep into another pair of glinting blue eyes. 

"Yes, Anakin, you are absolutely right. We should be helping. But look carefully, there are enough rescuers around here. It is more important that we get you to safety, back to the Temple."

"But…"

"Perhaps your Master is waiting for you there already. He must be worried."

The boy's eyes grew even more troubled at the mentioning of Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Dooku could only wonder at the closeness of these two people. Probably killing the Knight was not such a good idea. But possibly it was already too late.

"No, he's here," the Padawan insisted with certitude. 

"Maybe," the Count yielded. "But how can you be sure?"

"I… I can sense him."

Dooku's brows flew high involuntarily. It was an incredibly rare thing for so deep a connection to be forged in such a short period. 

"You can really sense his location?"

"Um… more or less… I think."

"This is very good," Dooku reassured. "He is here, then?" _And still alive too._

"Yes, but…" Anakin's lower lip trembled ever-so-slightly in a tenuous attempt to hide his feelings. "He's blocking me out. H-he's shielding from me!" The carefully hidden and suppressed offence suddenly shone bright in the eyes of the young Padawan.

Dooku could have said something in consolation, could have encouraged the boy… but he abruptly remembered his dislike for Kenobi and stood up roughly.

"Let's get on the move. I have an air-car parked nearby."

"May I fly it?!" Anakin immediately asked, tugging at the Count's long sleeve. 

The unanticipated change of mood threw Dooku off-balance for a split second. _How does Qui's Padawan cope with him?_

"I'm afraid not, my young friend. I don't think my pilot will appreciate it."

At the landing platform Dooku's shining-black air-car was already waiting for them with frowning Brimar leaning against it with his hands crossed over his chest. He and the Count exchanged quick glances as Brimar raised his brows askance at the sight of Dooku's companion. 

"We need to get Padawan Skywalker to the Jedi Temple," Dooku explained, accompanying his words with a curt conspiratorial nod. 

Without another word, Brimar climbed inside the air-car and powered the engines. Anakin followed the lanky figure of the Count inside the spacious salon. The air-car took off as soon as the door clinked shut behind the boy.

Anakin – however immature and inexperienced he might have been – sensed the air of mystery and plotting that seemed to permeate the air-car like heavy perfume. Nevertheless, contrary to Dooku's misgivings it did not scare the boy, nor did it put him on guard – it excited him. The Padawan wiggled on his seat, trying to examine every single detail of the simple but elegant salon and follow the endless streams of buildings and traffic outside simultaneously. 

Dooku watched him with hidden amusement and resurfacing memories.

Done with his examinations of the air-car Anakin finally settled in his seat, and for the first time paid some attention to the disheveled blond shock of the pilot.

"You're a good pilot," the boy observed in his high-pitched voice. "For a mere driver, I mean."

Brimar scowled to himself at the belittling remark, and Dooku sensed a wave of indignation roll from him as a burst of acrid orange coloured his Force-signature. And the Count knew Brimar, his closest companion as he was, had all the right to be angry, especially considering their recent disagreement.

Making sure Brimar could see him in a mirror, Dooku motioned for him not to mind Anakin's words. The Padawan remained oblivious.

Tall gracious spires of the Jedi Temple loomed in the murky distance glowing pristine white against the blurred background of the polluted city. Anakin grew quiet, and the silence was only broken when Brimar requested permission for landing.

As they stepped onto the landing platform a service droid rolled up to them.

"Is anyone waiting to guide you in, sirs?" it asked in a crisp voice.

Dooku felt bitter resentment rise in him. He was well aware that strangers, or outsiders for that matter, were not allowed into the Temple without guidance. Yet there had been time when he needed no guidance here; he still didn't need it – but the Jedi bureaucrats deemed otherwise.

Anakin glanced up at him in dismay. He was not sure at all the droid would let him in, though he'd been living at the Temple for almost a year now. 

The Count opened his mouth to say something, but was cut short by a loud hail for Anakin from the door leading into the maze of Temple halls. He looked there to see a young Mon Calamari woman standing in the doorway. Anakin waved his hand at her, and she started to walk towards them.

Bant – and that was no one other – neared the small group somewhat warily. She had recognized the former Jedi, and a billion of questions was already plaguing her mind as to what could have caused Obi-Wan to entrust his Padawan to such questionable company. 

"Anakin!" she smiled down at the boy, and he replied with a smile of his own, though somewhat wan.

"Knight…"

"Eerin." Bant frowned slightly at Dooku, showing her disaffection for him, though it seemingly had no effect on him.

"Knight Eerin, I trust you are more than capable of getting Anakin to his quarters."

"You can be sure of it." Bant nearly bit back and laid her hand onto the Padawan's shoulder protectively. "May I ask where is his Master?"

"I suppose he's occupied doing some rescuing at the senatorial banquet." The cold stare of Dooku's hazel eyes prevented Bant from asking any more questions, but she clearly caught the thought Dooku didn't bother to conceal from her: _Probably the infamous Sith-slayer is too busy to attend to his own apprentice._

The young Calamarian's hand balled into a fist, but she contented herself with throwing a scathing look at the Count. With a small smile, barely visible at the corners of his lips, Dooku made a mock bow and retreated into his air-car, which flew off bathing everyone on the landing platform in fine dust.

Anakin, who was totally at a loss as to what caused such drastic rise of negative emotions, looked up at Bant. She smiled down at him and ruffled his hair.

"All right, Anakin, let's get you to your room."

They walked in silence for several minutes until Anakin ventured a question.

"Why don't you like him?"

"Who?" the Knight refused to meet Anakin's gaze, staring in front of herself instead.

"Count Dooku." The boy was nothing if not persistent.

"Well… I suppose he's not a very good man…" Bant definitely was not inclined to discuss Dooku as her thoughts kept returning to a certain Knight stuck in the middle of some trouble – as was his usual.

In less than comfortable silence they reached the door to the apartments Anakin shared with Obi-Wan.

"I think it is time you go to bed," the Calamarian said, leaning against the doorframe.

Anakin raised no objection. But as he was ready to close the door and proceed to his bedroom he suddenly stopped and looked Bant in the eyes.

"Do you think he will return soon?" he asked, and a speck of guarded hopefulness shimmered in his voice.

_Do you think he will return unharmed?_ the young Knight deciphered to herself.

"I'm sure he will be back soon. And he must find you sound asleep," she smiled despite the growing unease, tugging at her heart.

Nodding in acceptance, although somewhat reluctantly, Anakin shut the door.

************* ************

Discourteously pressed against a marble wall stood Chancellor Palpatine, carefully sustaining a proper mixture of dignity and fright on his face. This appearance was needed to keep the personality of the Sith hidden. It wasn't time to reveal it yet. Palpatine had no doubt about his safety in the near future, and thus the expression so becoming of a Supreme Chancellor in present situation was nothing more than a skillfully maintained guise. 

He had nothing to fear from the group of men dressed in black – they were his own men, after all, and would do anything to keep him safe. The other group of attackers worried him but only slightly so. He was positive no harm would come from them: his own men would protect him and he would not be hesitant to use his powers of the Dark Lord if circumstances required. But he was curious. It wasn't obvious what they were trying to achieve, and this brought unneeded confusion into a well-thought scheme. 

With a bit of an effort Sidious forced himself to relax his fingers that had folded themselves into choking a gesture. These intruders were breaking his plans, but they were not reason enough to give himself out by unleashing his rage on them. Sidious leaned against the wall, slowly transforming back into Palpatine. 

His blue eyes, incredibly pale, holding the power frightening and fascinating to those who dared look into their depth – though only few did – traveled across the room, examining, assessing not only through visual images but through the Force as well. They lingered for a short moment on a hunched figure of a bounty hunter perched on the balcony above, unnoticed, and displeasure quirked the corner of Palpatine's mouth. Fett had his orders, yet Organa was still standing next to the Chancellor, alive.

The piercing gaze moved onward, observing. Senators cowed behind the columns, the chairs, inverted tables – anything they could find to give them an illusion of safety. 

~Weaklings. Hateful scum.~

The firing men, crouching behind any sort of cover as well, were producing much noise, but their efforts didn't yield any result as no one was even wounded – no one of the fighters, at least. The senators, it seemed, were not taken into account here. 

Palpatine watched the scene like a distant spectator, noting the moves, assessing the gray fighters' skill. They seemed to be well-taught, and he took a moment to wonder what brought them here.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?"

The harsh hail snapped Palpatine out of his observations. The call had been addressed to Organa who had tried – quite unsuccessfully – to sneak away from their black-clad captors. The Prince of Alderaan was quickly guided back to his place with a rifle firmly pressed between his shoulder blades. All the while he was keeping a face telling everyone he was walking on his own will. Palpatine shook his head in amusement. The royal Organa didn't seem to notice it. Shoved none too gently the prince leaned against the wall rubbing his hand he had hit on the wall and muttering something unintelligible under his breath.

Palpatine resumed his watching, trying to fathom the plans of the unknown group. They seemed to avoid shooting at senators. Once in a while they ran over from place to place, but their goals still remained unapparent. Whatever they were it seemed…

"Looks like we have a Jedi to the rescue here," Palpatine heard Organa whisper into his ear, intruding into his thoughts.

The dripping sarcasm of his voice made the Chancellor take a closer look at him. 

"About time he appeared," the prince continued, ignoring Palpatine's rather hard stare.

"He should have come earlier, is that what you imply?" the older man questioned. 

"Of course. He or someone else of that bunch. Isn't it what they are supposed to do?"

"Perhaps…"

Palpatine threw a quick sliding look at the young man dressed in the unmistakable brown cloak with a lightsaber hanging from his belt. The Jedi had just steeped out of an alcove hidden behind crimson velvet curtains. 

The Chancellor looked around at the senators who had apparently noticed their supposed rescuer while the fighters had yet to become aware of his presence. He noted that there was barely any face showing surprise at the sight of a Jedi. 

And he knew the reason for it: most shared Organa's belief that the Jedi were bound to come to their rescue in any situation, circumstances regardless. Sidious suddenly felt sorry for the members of the Order who imagined themselves to be great keepers of peace and justice in the galaxy – how much pathos, the Sith soundlessly snorted – but in fact were nothing more than a horde of faithful servants for political agendas of both the Senate and their very own Council.

But who was this particular Jedi? The Chancellor turned to look at the Jedi. A wave of shock – short-lived as it was, promptly quelled – passed through Palpatine as he recognized the Jedi to be no one other than Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The firing groups finally noticed the newcomer, and turned their full attention at him – as well as their blasters. Blue blade sprang to life, filling the hot, stuffed air with the low hum. Palpatine stiffened.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed, fool?" he mumbled almost angrily.

First blaster bolts ripped the air. 

The bar of shining blue started to move, preparing to deflect the shots. 

Time slowed down. 

The Force created an almost visible, clear halo around the young Jedi. 

But the attackers were too numerous…

Sidious drew upon the Force as well. He wouldn't let them kill his son.

Time slowed even more. The firing attackers were now resembling the statues – unmoving, frozen in odd poses. Even the lightsaber was swirling slowly in Obi-Wan's hands. 

There were only two of them now: the Jedi and the Sith; the father and the son, although the son was ignorant.

Gazes clashed for a moment, and something ominous filled the air with suffocating heaviness. Then time slowed even more, leaving the Jedi frozen just like everyone else in the room. 

Sidious raised his hands, the energy inside him making his body ache with almost limitless power. And then he unleashed the storm.

Feeble, motionless statues of attackers were flown into the walls like leaves blown by a hurricane. There was no sound, and in the eerie silence the bodies crashed into the marble walls and slid to the floor. Now they were nothing more than bodies. Dead bodies. Corpses.

With a contented sigh Palpatine let his hands drop, and time sped up around him.

A deflected blaster bolt hit one remaining attacker square in the chest, and he dropped dead. Palpatine, who was scrutinizing the Jedi, noted the look in Obi-Wan's eyes… the look of regret.

~He regrets killing him? Stupid, stupid… Whatever they are taught in that Temple of theirs? And they are called warriors…~

The Jedi clipped the lightsaber to his belt and bent over the nearest attacker searching for his pulse. There was none.

There could be none.

The senators one by one left their hiding places and gathered next to Obi-Wan though keeping some distance between themselves and him. Palpatine approached him with Organa close behind.

"Thank you, Jedi Kenobi."

Obi-Wan turned his head to him and gave a curt nod. Palpatine narrowly avoided looking into his eyes. It was not time yet…

"I suggest we go find some help, there are wounded," Organa broke in.

"All right," Obi-Wan was no longer looking at Palpatine. He addressed the rest of the senators. "There is no need for all of you to walk anywhere. Arrange those wounded as comfortably as you can. Senator Organa and I will go get a rescue team here."

"I will go with you," Palpatine interjected in a voice that was his usual courteous but bore no argument. 

"As you wish, Chancellor."

The three of them walked in silence out of the door, leaving the still scared senators and twenty dead attackers behind. All the while Palpatine watched Obi-Wan carefully, trying to gauge how much he understood of what happened in that room and what conclusions he would make. That, however, proved to be quite difficult, as Kenobi had apparently decided to think about it later, leaving the ideas he had in the tangled state they were.

A few minutes later they came across the nearest rescue team, and Obi-Wan quickly gave directions for them to find the senators. The leader of the group lingered to talk to him.

"We'd appreciate your help, Master Jedi."

"What do you need me do?"

"We have a group working down there," he motioned somewhere down the hall. "They could use an extra pair of hands."

"I will go there then. But…" Obi-Wan put a hand onto the man's arm stopping him from walking away. "Have you seen a little boy around here? Blond hair, this tall. Or maybe you've heard something?"

"No, I'm sorry."

Palpatine saw a worried expression cloud Obi-Wan's features for a moment until he forcefully straightened them. What surprised the Chancellor was a spark of compassion coming through the Force from Organa.

"If you'll excuse me, Chancellor, Senator," said Obi-Wan and left at once, not waiting for them to say anything.

Palpatine watched him until he rounded the corner then turned to Organa. The prince was still looking after Kenobi. 

"I have a little sister. Force, I can understand him!" Bail said to no one in particular.

Palpatine didn't say anything. Pretending to feel suddenly tired, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. Drawing upon the Force, submerging himself into it, letting it show him images, he watched what happened just around the corner. 

He saw Obi-Wan walk barely two steps down the adjacent corridor when abruptly a man, also dressed in black, launched himself at him from a niche concealed behind a portiere. The Jedi's reflexes were lightning-quick as he span out of the way. The man landed onto his feet and whirled around, drawing a short stick, gleaming metal in the dim light of the corridor. Then he went for the second attack.

Obi-Wan was ready for it… but he was not ready for the second man to appear out of the niche with an identical metal tube. Just as the Jedi twisted away from the first man, the second one lowered his stick onto his head harshly. The force of the blow dazed Obi-Wan, and the first man took the moment to hit him as well. 

The skillfully placed blow sent the Jedi into unconsciousness, and the two men watched him tumble down onto the floor in a heap. Making sure he wasn't moving the two black men dragged him into the alcove.

Not more than two hundred meters away Sidious opened his eyes and gave a tiny smug smile. Everything was going as planned.

************ ************

Far away at the Jedi Temple Anakin Skywalker jumped up in his bed, wide-eyed as an unknown terror found its way into his restless sleep. In his dream he had lost his Master – the Master who had yet to come home as a swift Force-scan confirmed. And in that dream – terrifying, crushing – his Master had died, leaving him alone.

"Please, Force, let him come back."

The Force remained silent.

With a sob the boy laid himself back down and hugged the pillow in a vain search for consolation.

************ ************


	23. Chapter 23

Grey feeble dawn, crawling slowly over the less than luxurious district of Coruscant, found Count Dooku in his secret headquarters sprawled to his full, rather impressive, height in a sagging armchair either asleep or in deep meditation. Pearly rays of sunlight sneaked into the study, lining walls adorned with dark wooden panels and tentatively crossing Dooku's outstretched legs. 

Traffic trailed slowly outside the window as though waking from the pre-dawn slumber along with rousing sun. Soundproof transparisteel windows blocked the street's noise almost completely. The din, reduced to a gentle murmur rather than the constant roar and whine, was lulling, especially at this early hour. 

No one dared disturb the Count, particularly after a sleepless night. Outside his private office, people slowed their paces passing his door, almost tiptoeing past it. The hum of voices engaged in busy conversations dropped to faint rustle of whispers near the tall wooden door. The study itself was like an oasis of peace and serenity in the midst of business activity.

Thus the more startling was a shrill beep of incoming call that imbued the room. Hazel eyes, trimmed with as yet black eyelashes, flew open and Dooku sat upright, instantly aware of his surroundings and alert. He reached his hand out and flipped the comm. unit transmission switch. The room plunged into silence.

In crackling blue outlines appeared a man, shrivelled to less than a meter tall figure. The man was dressed in an obscure grey suit, which did not restrain movement. He sketched a quick bow to the Count. In his hand the man held a piece of cloth which Dooku promptly identified as a fabric mask. Nodding in greeting Dooku took a chair closer to the comm. unit and sat down, steepling his long slim fingers, waiting for the holographic man to start talking.

A moment of uneasy silence hung in the air, broken only by electronic buzz of the holoprojector's lasers. 

"Report," Dooku said briskly.

The man cleared his throat and ran his hand through the dishevelled hair as though trying to delay the inevitable. Dooku didn't miss the gesture but chose not to comment.

"Warken's team is… they're all dead," the man finally uttered in a voice that was almost steady yet showed he was shaken by the news.

For a second Dooku thought he had heard wrongly the words, slightly distorted by static. Warken and his team were one of the best Dooku had. It could not possibly be… But no. He could not allow himself to indulge in self-deception, not at this time. 

"All of them?" asked the Count. His face had turned into a stone mask of contorted muscles.

The hologram nodded jerkily.

"Every single one."

"How did it happen?" ~How could it happen?~

"We don't really know…"

"Tell me the facts," the Count interrupted, appearing absolutely calm on the outside. Then added, letting emotion sip faintly into his voice, "I want to know why have I lost ten of my associates."

The holographic man gave him a glance as though guessing at what length Dooku might go to avenge the lost team.

"Last time I contacted Warken they were engaged in a fight."

"A fight?" Dooku's bushy brows lifted, indicating utter amazement. "At the senatorial building?"

Brimar entered the study quietly and stopped two paces from the door, listening. Dooku didn't acknowledge him, although, Brimar was positive, the Count was aware of his presence.

"There appeared to be another group," continued the hologram. "They were trying to kidnap the Chancellor and some of the senators."

"Palpatine? Was he hurt?"

"No, I don't think so. I saw him recently, he appeared to be fine."

"Any of the senators?"

"There are some wounded, they're being treated."

"Good."

The man ran a hand through his hair again, leaving dark stray locks sticking out in all directions. Dooku immediately picked up on this sign of nervousness and unease. "What is it?"

"It's just... the way they were killed... I've never seen anything quite like this before."

The Count nodded, urging him to continue.

"Like something… some unknown force has exploded and demolished them…"

"Some force?" Dooku repeated slowly. ~Or maybe the Force?~ "Did you see anyone – suspicious?"

The man on the hologram averted his eyes to the side for a moment, recalling the events, then shook his head. "No one. Not even one of those attackers Warken spoke of. We traced the signal of his homing beacon," he pointed unconsciously to a thin black band on his own wrist. "We found all ten of Warken's people scattered around one room. Without any wounds. Just… crashed. And no sign of anyone else."

"All tight. Retreat from the building. I need everyone's reports by this evening."

The man gave a short, terse bow, and the hologram dissolved. Dooku continued to sit gazing at the place where it had been.

"You think this is the Sith Master's doing?" Brimar half-asked, half-stated, moving to the window and settling himself on the windowsill so that warm rays of morning sun caressed the back of his head.

"I have no doubt of it."

"He was after Palpatine, then?"

"Most likely. Though… There's more to it than meets the eye."

"Like why Palpatine is still alive if the Sith was after him…" Brimar shifted, leaning against the cool surface of transparisteel.

Dooku shrugged. "Perhaps he wanted him alive."

"And what does your Force tell you?"

"'My' Force tells me that we know very little. But however ignorant we might be we are at least not blind."

Brimar fixed his steel-grey eyes on Dooku, who had turned to the data-pads lying neatly on his table. ~With your persistence I'm sure you will dig this Sith out of whatever hole he is hiding in.~

************* *************

An hour later sun glanced into yet another private office high in one of Coruscant's numerous skyscrapers. This office was quite different from that of Dooku. Whereas Dooku's office was decorated with wood this one bore cold stone. A single tall window gave wide panoramic view of the city but somehow seemed to block the sun's light. Inside there reigned chill and official atmosphere. 

In a gloomy corner of this spacious office a hologram blossomed over the polished surface of a round stone-incrusted table. The hologram filled the shadows of this murky corner where sun never seemed to come with low drone and unnatural bluish glow.

The figure on the hologram was unmistakeable although covered head to toe in armour – Mandalorian armour.

A heart of even bravest man would have skipped a beat should this almost legendary – and in some circles it was indeed a legend – figure appear in their sight. But it was not so for the powerful and dark presence which seemingly consisted of shadows and whose eyes now regarded the bounty hunter coldly from under the black hood.

Fett made a move that might be viewed as a bow if one so desired.

"You disappoint me," stated the shadowy figure of whom Fett knew almost nothing – except that he was paying. And paying no little money.

"I dare say the circumstances were less than perfect. I will finish the job…"

"No, you will not."

Jango froze, and though his face was hidden beneath the helmet Sidious sensed the alarmed vigilance in Fett. This ability to instil fear into anyone, even the renowned bounty hunter – one of the deadliest in the galaxy – almost amused the Dark Lord. For a moment his lips quirked in an ugly semblance of a smirk.

"Your services are no longer required in this case. You will return to Kamino at once." ~Your time has not come yet.~  
  


"May I…"

"No," the Sith cut him off icily. "You may not ask any questions."

"As you wish."

The hologram turned off, leaving Sidious in the shadows of his office.

*********** ***********

Light. Darkness. Not of sight. A feeling. 

Light and darkness creeping into soul. 

Uncertainty, doubt, fear.

Forest.

A forest crystallized out of nothing as though drawn by a magic wand. Tall oaks, lean aspens, slim young spruces, rich with delicate green needles swayed on gentle wind. Fallen leaves rustled quietly under booted feet. The familiarity of the place brought some comfort, tamed the raging emotions, though Obi-Wan could still feel them boiling quietly just under the surface, ready to spring forth and consume him once he let his guard down. 

He was alone once again in the woods he now found common, almost home-like. He raised his face to the speckled canopy of trees above and the sky… 

A pang of alarm rang in his heart, not yet strong enough to put him on alert. The sky was an ominous conglomeration of grayish violet thunderclouds, sliced here and there by meager, translucent rays of distant sun. Storm clouds that had once been but a fine line emphasizing the horizon turned now into an all-embracing veil of heavy pressing darkness, not marring the heaven's crystal beauty of earlier but conquering it with its enormity.

As if on cue, a chilly waft of wind descended from the sky, ripping at Obi-Wan's cloak, dousing the Jedi's upturned face with sprinkles of cold water. With a sigh Obi-Wan wiped his skin with the back of his hand. The beautiful azure sky of earlier was now gone, and he knew – somewhere in the depth of his soul – that it was not just the brilliance of that sky lost, it was something more important, something more scaled. And that something not only affected him but the whole galaxy. The changes were close…

A mournful lingering sound – more like a moan – startled Obi-Wan, piercing his heart with a needle of apprehension and untold sorrow. He tore his gaze from the skies above looking for the source of the doleful cry. 

The sound repeated, almost humanlike. Obi-Wan's eyes fell onto a white bird sitting on a branch opposite from him. The bird fixed him with a pointed, nearly stern gaze of sable eyes.

"Hello to you too, old friend," smiled Obi-Wan, recognizing one of the two birds from his previous visit to the forest.

The bird cocked its head to the side, as though studying him, than with a short and powerful swing of its wings it carried itself onto his shoulder. He lifted a hand to smooth its disheveled feathers as it tried to find a comfortable position. 

"Things don't look good, do they?"

The bird gave a short shriek.

"Now I guess I'm supposed to travel like a brave knight from one of those ancient tales, with a falcon on my shoulder." Obi-Wan gave a smile although somewhat wary as his senses kept him strained. Something in the air made him uneasy, something in the Force was troubling.

"Perhaps I need to make another step along that path. What do you think?"

The bird waved its wings, brushing Obi-Wan's cheek with feathers, then suddenly gave out another woeful cry.

"Now what's the matter? You sound like a mourner. Cheer up!" He stroked the bird's compact, sleek body soothingly. "Wherever that path leads I…"

He trailed off as his gaze came to rest at his feet seeing no path there. His boots were buried in grass and emerald, moist moss, a stray leaf clinging to one boot. Somehow, the absence of the path triggered an alarm in his mind. 

"Seems like I've already come somewhere." 

He shot quick, keen looks in different directions, taking in his surroundings once more. The forest was still forest, and there was no path to follow anymore. The bird perched on his shoulder, of whom he had forgotten in his unpleasant revelation, rubbed its head on his cheek consolingly.

Another doleful cry tore the silence of woods. It traveled among the trees from apparently great distance, and the plants seemed to listen to it, wavering slightly.

"Is that your friend?" asked Obi-Wan, knowing somehow – after a weird tradition of dreams where one knows things without learning them – that the cry belonged to the second bird he had met earlier – the black one.

The bird on the Jedi's shoulder ruffled its feathers and gave out an almost human shout: "Ha!"

"Well, whatever you say." He looked around again. Something was pushing him into action, telling him to make a step. But where? He attempted to draw upon the Force, but its golden strands – so soothing and reassuring at other times – were now out of reach, beaconing, enticing, but completely unattainable. "Looks like I'll have to choose on my own."

Resigning himself he made a step forward in a random direction… and froze. Just behind the edge of trees gaped a maw of black, fog filled chasm. He backed away from it in a sudden wake of fear, back to the safety of tiny clearing. 

Drawing a deep – if slightly shaky – breath he made a step in opposite direction. Only to face the awful chasm again.

The clearing seemed to shrivel, trees clustered round him more tightly. He knew he would be forced eventually to take some route, and it would lead him into the abyss regardless of the direction he chose. The Force had led him here – and left. If the Force were a sentient being he could have sworn it was watching his struggle now with amusement.

The bird took off from its roost on Obi-Wan's shoulder and flew to a nearby tree.

"Leaving too, are you?" Obi-Wan threw at it.

The bird did not reply, watching him with shining beads of eyes. 

Not wanting to delay the inevitable, preferring to face what fate had in store for him and be done with it, Obi-Wan took one step forward. Then another. And another. The air felt suddenly condensed and viscous like syrup, hampering movement. The Jedi had to struggle with it – more and more with each second…

Until suddenly he was down on his back, swaddled in something. In a momentary fit of panic he fought with the binds that held him until his cloggy mind registered the soft surface of a bed beneath him and dim light of a single nightlight. The binds, wrapped tightly around his body turned out to be covers he had tangled himself in. With a sigh he unwrapped them and threw them off, finding himself dressed in silky nightclothes.

Sitting up on the edge of the bed he carefully surveyed the room, coming up with only one conclusion – he had no idea where he was.

*********** **********


	24. Chapter 24

Somewhere in the same building another dimply lit room was located. Round, with pale blue bare walls; as the room's only decoration served a large vid-screen stretched on the wall. The room was occupied by a deep armchair with tall back, padded with midnight-blue velvet, and a single person sitting in it. The armchair was designed for rest yet the woman's figure in it was anything but relaxed. Body leaned forward, hands pressed in a tight lock, sable eyes watching the vid-screen where a young man sat on a bed.

The man looked confused, disoriented, and she knew exactly why. She had witnessed him being carried into the room and placed into bed. She had sat vigil through hours of his sleep. And she was now trying to fathom what he would do next for she found her ability to predict the Jedi's moves lacking.

However, before the Jedi could do anything more than stand up the events started to unfold. Something appeared in the room. Nais leaned forward even more, her back rigid. What materialized in that bedroom wasn't a hologram but it wasn't a solid form either. A figure draped in flowing folds of voluminous black cloak was barely visible against the dark background of the wall behind it. 

Obi-Wan stared, his face showing a mixture of emotions, until a mask of calmness thrown over his face out of habit concealed them.

"Who are you and what do you want?" asked the Jedi with some strain in his voice.

The figure shifted a bit but didn't approach. Then it spoke.

"I am called Lord Sidious."

Kenobi visibly winced. Silence followed, giving Nais time to make some conclusions. What interested her most was the way Sidious chose to visit the captive knight. Why hadn't he come himself? 

She examined his figure searching for answers. His face was barely visible under the heavy hood, but what Nais could see showed her a trace of emotion – concealed yet still present to her expert eye – a surprising emotion – fear.

The Dark Lord being afraid?!

She took a moment to double-check her inference, but everything – her eyes, her intuition – confirmed it. Darth Sidious was afraid of Obi-Wan Kenobi. And that was the reason why he hadn't come himself, choosing instead a weird, and probably very trying, sort of mental projection. She leaned back in surprise.

"What are you afraid of?" she asked softly. Nais knew he couldn't hear her, and it gave her a sort of confidence. Just as her sudden knowledge, knowledge he would most likely prefer to be left not revealed, gave her a feeling of power – power over him.

He shifted a bit more – a shade among shadows – and she leaned forward again eagerly, seeking to uncover the source of his fear.

"What do you want of me?" Kenobi demanded. He now stood facing Sidious in a posture both relaxed and alert.

"To open your eyes and make you see few things…"

"…And get me onto your side."

"That would be a desired ultimate goal."

"Never."

Sidious moved to a chair and lowered himself onto it, steepling his fingers. Obi-Wan observed him with wary gaze.

"Please, sit down," Sidious said in a sweet voice which, however, held a command. 

Obi-Wan obeyed, sitting down onto the bed. But it wasn't he who Nais watched, unlike Sidious. She held her eyes fixed on the only part of the Sith's face visible to her – his lips. And she saw those lips mouth silently a word – a name. 

The syllables merged into "Alionna". 

The Jedi took a moment to straighten some creases on the bed covers, apparently feeling less than comfortable under the Sith's scrutinizing gaze.

"You are so much like her," Sidious said almost too softly for the hidden dynamics in the room to pick the sound. And there was a trace of fear again – almost superstitious fear. He feared his dead wife, and the mixture of them both in their son, Nais realized. Kenobi appeared not to hear.

"So what is it you wish to tell me?" A note of wariness slipped into the Jedi's voice through the sarcasm he had infused there.

"Several things about the Order you pledged yourself to." Obi-Wan snorted. Sidious gave a tight smile. 

"Which would be?"

"I suppose you know that there are some… flaws in the Jedi Order."

"The Order is an organization and as such is not perfect. I fail to see a revelation here."

"And you are so devoted to this organization that you're ready to spring to its defence any moment?"

Obi-Wan said nothing.

"Very well then. Let's start from the very beginning – from how the children find themselves at the Temple."

Sidious looked at the Jedi opposite from him, clearly expecting him to say something, but Kenobi refused to carry on the dialog.

"Children – the future of the galaxy, I dare say – are being taken from their homes, from their families, who are told stories about the happy life their offspring would get among the Jedi…"

"Those children get another home at the Temple."

"They do – at the price of leaving everything they had before behind and forgetting their blood families."

"We are allowed to visit parents – sometimes."

"Yes, you are. But how often do you really visit them?"

The Jedi and the Sith were now staring at each other, face to face.

"We have much work to do."

"Indeed it takes much time and effort to make a perfectly drilled soldiers out of innocent children."

"Jedi are keepers of the peace, not soldiers."

"Is it truly so?" He made a pause, letting his words sink in. "But it is not all, far from that. The children are raised without parental love…"

"Temple crèche masters give them enough love."

"… and in constant competition. Tell me it isn't so," the Sith taunted. Obi-Wan gave him a withering look. "As for love… yes, the crechlings are given love – or some substitute of it. They are raised with it, don't imagine their lives without it. Until comes the day of their thirteenth birthday, and they realize that no one has picked them, that no one would care to love them anymore. That they would have to live the rest of their lives as outcasts."

"It is natural selection," Obi-Wan objected, but his voice was weak.

"Natural you say? Is it natural to give a child an utterly sheltered life, care for him, cherish him – only to leave him alone and defenceless to the vastness of the galaxy? Even I call that cruel. What do you call it? What does the Order call it?"

Obi-Wan stared at the far wall, as though struggling to see the barest of cracks on its surface. Sidious' voice softened.

"Your thoughts are what the Order has put into your head. I only want you to open your eyes and look for yourself at those you call brothers."

"No one of my friends has anything to do with this…"

"No, they don't. But the Council does."

Kenobi levelled at him eyes dark with emotions contained in their depth.

"It is widely known that the Padawans of the Jedi Order are forbidden to marry. And only Padawans. But how many Knights have you witnessed getting married? How many marriages have you heard of?"

"It is hard to find your loved one… Hard to know the person is right…"

"It is hard for everyone. And still people throughout the galaxy find each other, get married. Why not Jedi?"

"We put duty before our personal demands."

"You are truly blinded, my son." Kenobi flinched. "It is because the Council doesn't wish to lose all those excellent operatives do the Jedi not marry each other."

"You lie."

"I have proof. It is at your exposal any time you desire…"

"I do not."

"Well, well, I see I tire you. I will take my leave for the time being."

And Sidious was gone from the bedroom as a figment of a nightmare, leaving Kenobi pondering his words.

A minute later still wrapped in that black cloak Palpatine appeared in the monitoring room. Nais didn't have to turn round to know he had entered. The Sith was emanating almost tangible coldness – and satisfaction.

"You think your words meant anything to him? You think he even listened to them?"

"Listened or not, he heard them. And I dare say I sown the seeds of doubt."

"Doubt? You can't make him doubt enough..."

"No, I can't. Not now. But when he meets my little surprise..."

"You're going to hurt your own - and only - son." It wasn't a question and there was scarce incredulity. 

"Who knows how many of them there really are," Palpatine stated casually, but she heard falseness behind the words. He leaned on the back of her armchair unceremoniously. "Anyway, I would not hesitate to kill him were it for the better."

"Better for who?"

"For the galaxy, of course." The mask of the Supreme Chancellor momentarily glanced in his tone.

"Like hell you care for the galaxy," Nais muttered.

"I do care for it, honey." He brushed her hair, and she shrank under his touch. "It would make a very nice sparkling diamond in my ring of power."

"Republic doesn't seem all that sparkling to me. Stinking more like it."

"Poor child, you confuse the transient outer sequins of state structure for the true essence of the galaxy. Republic..." he paused, as though weighting his words. "Republic will soon tear itself apart from the inside and die the honourless and piteous death."

"And you will ensure it happens for you liking."

He leaned so close to her that Nais could feel his breath on her cheek. 

"You know things... You can deduce some more. Your mind is sharp, and I like it in you. But..." He brushed old crooked, covered in veins fingers through the golden cascade of her hair, and she shuddered. "one – unwise – word, and you know what I will do to you."

She straightened, driven by the brash feeling of contradiction, saying: 'look, I'm not afraid'. But his next words turned her innards ice-cold.

"Or to your precious auntie. I think you've got enough imagination..." he let the sentence hang.

"S-sick!" she hissed.

"Charming," he smiled. "Ah, I see my dear son has already found the door unlocked. I hate to depart on you, but business calls me elsewhere."

And he walked out, leaving Nais to stare at the vid-screen, frowning and biting her lips.


	25. Chapter 25

Evening was slowly draping its soft cover over this part of the giant city-planet. It brightened the scene, however paradoxical it might sound, throwing here and there spackled clusters of artificial lights with a lavish hand. One of Coruscant's moons was rising over the horizon, casting a ghostly radiance over the spiky structures below. But its glow – magnificent and enticing as it could have been were it watched from the spacious lakes of Alderaan or deep unrefined jungles of Yavin – here was easily drowned out by the unnaturally bright luminescence of sentient-made illumination. The moon's pale disk was barely visible against the sallow, feeble, seemingly low sky.

From an open window somewhere in the mass of the buildings Brimar watched the moon's slow rise with mixed emotions. His hands resting on the windowsill, his head in the halo of dirty-blond ruffled hair leant against the frame of the window, he appeared deep in thought. The room was starting to drown in darkness, but he made no move to bring on the lights. The murkiness of the room was too much in tune with the faraway quality of his reflections to attempt breaking it.

Dooku entered the study quietly and stopped in the middle, staring absently into space, frowning. With a considerable effort Brimar tore himself from deep musings and turned to regard the newcomer. The Count's face was calm, yet it wasn't that serene, relaxed calmness his aristocratic face usually wore. Everything in Dooku countenance led to believe he was about to clench his fists and attack anyone unfortunate enough to be present in his near vicinity. 

"What's wrong?" asked Brimar worriedly, forgetting his own less than happy thoughts at this sight.

Dark eyes turned to fix him with an almost insane stare.

"They killed Urait." Dooku's voice was hard, words spoken as if through gritted teeth.

For a moment Brimar stayed in confusion until a face – and facts – came up to match the name. "It is that Twi'lek, your friend?" Dooku nodded curtly, as though even this tiny movement hurt him. "I thought he was a Jedi…"

"He was, and a very skilled one too." Dooku walked to his table and sat – or rather fell – into the large armchair next to it. "He was one of the greatest Jedi Masters the Order has."

In the growing dusk Brimar could make out the other man's eyes – they glinted with fire – and he could not decide whether it was the fire of rage or grief, or both.

"As far as I know, it takes much to kill a Jedi Master…"

"An understatement, really."

"…Do you have any idea who could have done it?" he ventured.

Dooku shook his head vehemently. "They. The Sith Lord and his disciples." Suddenly it seemed as if the former Jedi couldn't hold the words in any longer, letting them tumble out of his mouth in a hurried irrepressible gush. But however tormented the words might have been they still came out in a cultured, unfaltering row. "I asked Urait to check the Archives for this Camino system. He…" Doku paused for the briefest of moments, closing his eyes. "He contacted me today saying he had found some disturbing facts. From what he was able to tell me I gathered the information about this system has been wiped away from the Archives. And it could only have been done by someone with a status of a Council member." The last words fell heavy into silence.

The declaration was too much to immediately come to terms with. And Brimar found himself tempted to just throw it aside as something completely out of possibility. Surely he knew the Jedi Order was drowning in political squabbles of the Republic, serving not the peoples of the galaxy and not even the greater good as they claimed they were, but petty whimsies of corrupted politicians. All that was out of question for him – as he had spent not one year in and about that web of intrigues – yet he found himself unable to believe a member of the Jedi Council was capable of association with the Sith. It was simply unimaginable, incomprehensible…

Pause stretched. Pale bars of silver light lined the room's floor: the second of Coruscant's moons was crawling up the sky.

"What are you going to do?" Brimar finally broke the silence.

"Study the holocron." Came the cold and resolute answer.

"What?!" Quickly crossing the room Brimar stood towering over the table. "Are you totally insane?"

Dooku leveled cold dark eyes at him, but the other was undeterred. 

"That thing… Throw it out, break it into pieces! Not study it!"

"There is an old saying…" Dooku started in a voice that showed Brimar there was no thwarting him. "To win a fight one must know the enemy from the inside."

Brimar gripped the edge of the table making as if to throw it over.

"And you think you are so mighty, so invincible! You think you're immune to the Dark Side, don't you?!"

Dooku didn't answer. Brimar's heated voice fell down to barely above a whisper.

"I've seen what a Force-user can do… And I've seen what a darksider can do." A beautiful face and long pale blond hair, a look of frenzied wrath in the eyes flashed before Brimar's inner eye as he remembered the Sith woman. "I do not want you to become one of them," he finished around the sudden tightness in his throat.

"I won't." Dooku's voice regained its usual aristocratic notes. "I am stronger than that."

Brimar shook his head. It seemed his passionate speech had fallen on deaf ears.

"Now leave me alone. I believe you have things to do other than babysitting me," the Count continued.

"Why did I ever bothered getting mixed up with you?" Brimar asked straightening, his voice now tired. "Getting in all this…"

"Because you saved my life, my dear friend."

"And why did I ever do such a…"

"Stupidity?" Dooku issued a mirthless chuckle. "Because you were meant to."

"Oh, keep that Jedi fatalistic mumbo-jumbo to yourself, will you?" Brimar retorted.

And though their last words were light there was a certain weight settled in his heart as he exited the room.

************ ************

Stuffed air was heavy and oppressive in the darkened bedroom, pregnant with troubling dreams and lurking insatiable nightmares watching for an innocent dream to intrude into, stirring emotions, waking fear, clouding senses. And no matter that this was the Jedi Temple – the stronghold of peace and serenity – no matter that the Code frowned upon emotion and disapproved of fear. Nightmares didn't care a bit about the Code as well as whose dreams they were haunting.

And this time writhing and whimpering in the fierce grip of a nightmare was a small ten-year-old boy, lying in his bed in the depth of the Temple. Sand coloured short spiky hair was damp with sweat; tanned cheeks burned with fevered heat; full puffy lips slightly parted as though struggling for air. A thin braid, lovingly adorned with coloured beads, laid on a pillow forlornly, forgotten. 

A long shuddered sigh escaped the boy's mouth, and he tried to pull the covers around himself tighter as if to hide from the terrors of the dream under them. But the covers were no protection from the unknown horror that grabbed him. Suddenly, with a start, two midnight blue eyes opened, staring at the ceiling unseeingly, still captured in the misty land of a nightmare.

"Master?" A tiny voice, thin and quivering, called into darkness.

Holding his breath the child waited for the answer. 

Nothing. Shadows didn't move to reveal that strong figure and bright presence that was his Master. Trembling, Anakin drew the covers up to his chest.

"Master Obi-Wan…" he called again into silence.

Not a single sound.

~Maybe he's just sleeping and doesn't hear me?~

Slowly edging out of the bed Anakin got up and padded, barefooted, out of the bedroom. At the door to Obi-Wan's room he paused, gathering his courage where he felt none. What if…

~No, he's here! He's returned when I was asleep, and he – he just didn't want to wake me. He IS here!~

With shaking hands Anakin pushed the door open just a crack. Not daring to open more he peered inside, breath caught in his throat. But his eyes met only darkness and a corner of the somewhat lighter rectangle of a window. Carefully he opened the door just a bit more, then suddenly flung it full open.

The room was empty. The bed at the far wall stood neatly made, abandoned.

The boy sank to the floor.

"M-master, where are you?"

He was expecting, hoping with all his heart that a hand would lower onto his shoulder then – that large warm and so familiar hand – and the cultured voice would tell him it was all right, that there was nothing to fear.

But the night was cold – just like back then on the Naboo royal ship when he first left Tatooine… and his mother. It had been just as cold then.

But there had been someone then… 

There had been Padme to understand him and offer a warm jacket accompanied with a yet warmer smile. His beautiful and dear Padme. His angel… But she had turned into queen and was so far away, unreachable. 

Then there had been Master Qui-Gon – so tall, so confident, so powerful and warm too. He had been better than anyone Anakin had ever met before, almost as good as Mommy. But he had died… And although Qui-Gon still talked to the Padawan at times he wasn't here to offer solace on this incredibly cold night.

And Master Obi-Wan… So reserved sometimes, then suddenly all glowing with that boyish grin of his. The puffed up and sulking apprentice to Master Qui-Gon when Anakin had first met him had managed to somehow turn into the closest person in the galaxy… well, after Mom and Padme. The person who had been always with him. The one to lean upon.

And now he was gone too.

A question sprung up unbidden: was he to lose all his family? Was he to lose everyone he was close to? Maybe the reason they were all gone was he, Anakin?

The thought stung, more than he could have imagined. Was it all his fault? 

Having no idea what he was doing Anakin scrambled to his feet and shuffled to the door that was leading out into the Temple's corridors. Hot tears blurred his vision. Chilly night air easily sneaked under the thin pajamas, cooling his skin. Bare feet made almost no sound on the ice-cold floor. With a low hissing the apartment door opened into the dimness of the stretching hallway.

Some time later in the vast corridors two Jedi Masters, clad in gowns thrown over the nightclothes, stumbled upon each other in search of the disturbance that had broken their sleep. Seeing Adi Gallia – disheveled, wrapping her gown around herself yet still looking regal – Mace Windu shook his head. The woman shot him a challenging glare.

"So, you felt it too?" Mace asked, approaching her. His voice was still hoarse from sleep.

"I wonder how the whole Temple didn't," she replied, casting around the empty hall. "What do you think it is?"

Mace shrugged. "I suppose we'll have to locate the source and find out."

Without another word two Jedi turned in the direction their senses were leading them. Their journey wasn't long as they soon came upon a small almost invisible bundle huddled on the floor against the wall in one of the dimply lit corridors. The Masters approached, and Adi kneeled next to the tiny spring of their unrest.

"Anakin, what is wrong?" she asked gently, adopting almost motherly tones, putting her hand on the boy's shoulder.

"What are you doing out here in the night?" Mace asked sternly from above. Adi glowered at him.

"What happened, Anakin?" she asked again softly when the Padawan didn't reply.

The boy leveled at her a pair of tear filled eyes, and she felt as though glancing into two bottomless pits of anguish. With a strangled sob Anakin flung himself at her and hugged her neck. She rubbed his back soothingly, trying to calm down the distraught apprentice.

"Where is your Master?"

"M-m-m…" and Anakin sobbed louder. 

Mace leaned against the wall with an expression of bored expectation on his face, and his fellow Master was hard pressed not to stand and shout at him to be more humanlike. Or, she supposed, she would have liked to simply punch him for such callousness. Tense with concealed anger she turned her attention back to the child in her arms.

"Obi-Wan's not home yet?" Adi guessed. Anakin nodded into her gown. "It's alright, he'll come back soon, you'll see."

"N-nn…"

"He _will_ come back, Anakin," the Master said a bit firmer. "Safe and sound."

The boy suddenly tore himself from her embrace and raised the tearstained face. Adi felt a twisting sensation of dread clutch her heart. Anakin's face wore the look of such desolation, such hopelessness…

"No, he's not coming," the boy voiced quietly but firmly. His breath audibly hitched. "B-because h-he's… **dead**."


	26. Chapter 26

Long halls of dull greyish walls stretched their seemingly endless branches in every direction possible. Undistinguishable from one another, they were more suited for a nightmare, Obi-Wan decided, than reality. Or [i]_was_[/i] it a nightmare? Just a twisted substitute for real world, created by his muddled brain? He couldn't really tell. 

An echo of distant terror besieged Obi-Wan's mind as he stumbled through the corridors in an attempt to find a way out. Yet he was only dimply aware of someone's - Anakin's? - horror carried to him through the Force. The faint whisper of a voice cried out to him desperately, but Obi-Wan could find no strength to answer, to grasp the thin strand connecting him to his apprentice so clogged was the connection. 

~He must be sleeping,~ the Jedi thought. ~Must be having one of those nightmares.~ 

Anakin's nightmares were of great concern to his Master during this first year they spent together. Rare as those nightmares were they carried an almost excruciating power in them, reducing the boy to a quivering ball of fear each time they happened upon him. And now Obi-Wan wasn't even there to offer a word of comfort and encouragement to his Padawan.

"Some Master am I!" 

His angry whisper dissipated into the polished grey of the walls never reaching anyone. With a new strength borne of stubborn disinclination to surrender the Jedi started to walk again, determined to get out of this place - and fast. Although, some part of his mind - the reasonable one, he supposed - told him that he most likely would never leave this building unless the Sith decided otherwise. Obi-Wan could almost sense the Sith jerk invisible strings, making the Jedi move obediently. Foul feeling of being a toy in a twisted creature's hands permeated Obi-Wan's thoughts, choking them, filling him with unreasonable desire to bolt and run - no matter where, just run - away. Still, he kept his pace even. The Sith would not have a pleasure of seeing him panic - as long as Obi-Wan could help it.

The young man prowled narrow corridors for what seemed like hours on end while his perfectly honed sense of time told him it had been mere minutes. And the longer he walked the more he felt like a lab rat locked in a maze by some unknown scientist. The passages turned and twisted and split and dispersed and looped back in an endless labyrinth. 

Force was of little help to him on this occasion. From the powerful ally that had been supporting him his entire life it had turned into a pale shimmer somewhere at the back of his mind. Too weak and elusive to draw upon.

A sick sense of being manipulated didn't leave Obi-Wan even as he picked turns at random at the same time trying to stick to one general direction. IT wouldn't do to walk circles around the building, he thought. Gazes. They followed him everywhere. Burned his back. But when he would turn there was no one there. As if the walls themselves had eyes - trained on him, watching his every move with hungry curiosity.

"Calm down now, Obi-Wan," he told himself with a small joyless grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "You are slowly going mad, man. Take it easy. Don't spoil the fun to the spectators."

For a second he thought he heard a chuckle coming from somewhere down the corridor, but no, he must have imagined it. Still, imagined or not, that might be a lead. He would go in that direction since it wasn't worse than any other.

Straightening slightly he picked up his stroll. Turning a corner he blinked in surprise. Was that a door he just glimpsed at the dim end of the hall? Inadvertently he quickened his pace even more. Could it be this easy? 

Reaching the door he fully expected it to be locked, but it slid open smoothly as soon as he reached out to touch it. Abruptly full of worst suspicions Obi-Wan inched his way out of the corridor and into a room. His eyes took in the place instantly - high ceiling, black metal walls with glowrods instilled in them at regular intervals, no windows - before they came to rest on the only living form in the room. A person was standing precisely in the center of the round black dimly glittering metal floor.

It was a man, judging from the tall powerful built not even a voluminous dark cloak could hide. The stranger stood with his back to Obi-Wan, raised hood covering his head, yet there was something painfully familiar in the man's posture. There was something - and Obi-Wan couldn't put his finger on it - something that practically screamed at the knight: you know him!

Suddenly very self-conscious for no apparent reason the young Jedi stepped forward and called out to the stranger. "Who are you?"

The man whipped around, lightning quick. Obi-Wan's world went colourless, and he staggered. Hair standing on his neck, blood running cold, Kenobi stared wide-mouthed, speechless. The stranger stared back at him with a steadfast gaze. There was no hostility in that look but no warmth either. Like a mask was that face.

Silence was deafening. The only sound Obi-Wan could hear was the thunderous throbbing sound of his own blood echoing in his ears. 

Minutes trickled by before Obi-Wan managed to gather his wits about to utter a single broken word: "Qui-Gon?!"

Sheer disbelief, tentative reckless hope, question and statement - all mixed in those two syllables. The man in front of him inclined his head, agreeing.

Abruptly, as though something had torn inside him, words burst from Obi-Wan's mouth, and tears welled up in his eyes - blinding, burning.

"B-but how?! You. How did you?!. How is it. possible?" He gestured at Qui-Gon, unable to find words to carry his feelings. He suddenly wanted to be a reckless little boy again, to just throw himself at his true father and hold on to him like a beacon in a sea. Yet he stayed rooted to the spot.

The formerly dead Jedi Master smiled slightly, watching his ex-apprentice struggle with tumbling speech. Finally he held up a hand, and Obi-Wan ceased his attempts to ask all questions at once.

"I think I owe you an explanation," Qui-Gon said softly, his speech measured, and Obi-Wan's heart lurched at the so familiar sound of his voice - the voice he never dreamed to hear again. "The truth is I was rescued from the Generator Core room on Naboo."

"But I saw you die there! I held you in my arms when you [i]_died_[/i]!" interrupted the younger man impatiently.

"In a way you have." Qui-Gon watched with an almost satisfied look a puzzled expression spreading on Obi-Wan's face. "But it wasn't me, strictly, who has died there."

"How so?"

"While you fought Darth Maul I was taken away from there. You didn't see them. You were otherwise occupied. And as I later learned they had replaced me with a clone."  
  


"A clone? But."

The world was coming down around Obi-Wan in splinters. He tried wildly to hold its pieces, to scavenger something of what he had known as truth, but fragment kept slipping through his fingers like sand. He made a step backward and half-leaned half-fell against the wall.

"All this time I thought you dead, and it was only a trick?! A fake?! YOU were a fake!"

Not a muscle moved on Qui-Gon's face.

"I needed time to heal. Lord Sidious kindly offered me his help."

[i_]"What?!"[/_i] Obi-Wan's knees went weak, and he nearly collapsed to the floor, hands roaming the wall for something to provide desperately needed support. "You took help from a Sith?!"

A nonchalant shrug from Qui-Gon filled Obi-Wan with bitter disgust.

"Lord Sidious was able to provide means the Jedi could not. Are you not happy that I survived?"

"How can you."

"Oh come on, Obi-Wan."

"He is a Sith!" With a panic the young Jedi noted hysteric edge to his shouted words.

"Sith," Qui-Gon rolled the word in his mouth as though tasting it, then added briskly, "It's only an appellation."

"He's evil."

"Evil?" The older man laughed - a barking, uncharacteristic sound. "Now, what a bright conception! Quit that childish behavior, Obi-Wan, it doesn't suit you. Or do you really still divide world into black and white, into good and evil? Have I taught you nothing?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. Something in his eyes changed, shadows appeared that hadn't been there a moment before.

"You are not the Qui-Gon I used to know." 

"I have become wiser." Qui-Gon was serious again.

"Uglier."

"And you think you will get away with this, my very silly Padawan? Telling me that. I think you need to get a good spanking."

To his growing horror Obi-Wan saw Qui-Gon draw from inside his cloak a metal cylinder - a lightsaber. His breath quickening, Kenobi shifted his gaze to the Master's eyes and with a sinking feeling saw ice-cold determination in their midnight blue depth and not a flicker of humour.

"You will."

A snap-hiss of activating lightsaber cut him short. Green blade cast ghastly brilliance over Qui-Gon's face, sharpening his features, deepening shadows. Obi-Wan stared at this suddenly alien face, mesmerized. He had never ever seen this face distorted with such contempt.

"Master? What are you going to do?" It couldn't be. It simply couldn't!

"Teach you a lesson." Qui-Gon stepped forward.

Unable to move away from him, back pressed against the wall, Obi-Wan edged to the side instead. His mind was racing, searching frantically for escape. 

Qui-Gon made another step.

By chance Obi-Wan's eyes fell onto a small one-legged table now not obscured by Qui-Gon's bulking form. There, on the table's polished round surface, was lying the one thing that could save him - his own lightsaber. 

Without a thought Obi-Wan darted to the side and away from the wall. Qui-Gon moved to intercept him but was an instant too late. Obi-Wan's fingers closed around the hilt - the familiarity of it's carvings lending him a bit of security. Radiant azure bar sprang to life and instantly moved to intercept the crushing blow of the green blade. Still the blow sent him reeling. Obi-Wan recoiled and brought his 'saber up just in time to block another blow.

What followed next was a blur, a phantasmagoric, twisted variation of sparring matches they were once used to have. 

Two lightsabers sizzled, caught in a sharp lock. Their owners' eyes met over the blades, and Obi-Wan flinched. He had never imagined seeing such malice twisting noble leonine features of his former mentor.

"What happened to you?" he asked almost breathlessly, almost pleadingly. "How did Sidious poison you to make you this?"

A crooked, slightly lopsided smile twisted Qui-Gon's features, and Obi-Wan had a feeling of something dark and ancient and absolutely, primordially evil glancing through. Unable to watch it the young Jedi shoved the green blade away, breaking the lock. 

They faced each other again, lightsabers in front of them gripped tightly. Then suddenly Qui-Gon was upon Obi-Wan, attacking with incredible speed, lashing out, crushing like a hurricane. Obi-Wan was holding back, fearful to inflict harm. All thoughts left him as he struggled to stay alive under the onslaught. 

And again they stepped apart, Obi-Wan trying to catch his breath. Qui-Gon tilted his head as though studying the man in front of him.

"Pathetic, aren't you?"

Obi-Wan jerked as if slapped in the face.

"A weakling," Qui-Gon continued mercilessly. "You call yourself a Jedi but you could never be anything close to what a real Jedi should be. Even that scum - Chun - was better than you. Maybe I should have taken him instead?"

Obi-Wan's eyes grew wider, and he opened his mouth as if to say something yet nothing came out.

"You were never worth the effort I put in you. And now you're trying to make yourself a teacher to Skywalker - a poor try really. Or are you going to make of him the same weakling as yourself?" Qui-Gon paused with a faraway look as though thinking over the possibilities. Obi-Wan stood frozen before him, rage slowly starting to boil in his soul, clouding all thought. 

"No," the tormentor continued. "Skywalker would never be such weakling. He would first run away from you - to the Dark Side."

That did it. Without a warning Obi-Wan charged forward with enraged cry. He attacked furiously, all watchfulness lost. The surprised Jedi Master had barely had time to block the first blow. But he recovered quickly. A swing and another, and another were blocked swiftly. Obi-Wan twisted, feinted a high blow then jerked his blade down in a short powerful arc. The humming blade delved into flesh, tearing it, burning. 

Suddenly motionless the younger man lifted his eyes to look in the glazing midnight blue orbs of his opponent. 

"No," a whisper fell from Obi-Wan's lips.

With a loud clank echoing in deathly silence Qui-Gon's lightsaber fell to the floor, the blade extinguishing automatically. Without a notion Obi-Wan turned his 'saber off and watched, stunned, as the tall form of his former mentor crumpled to the floor. Obi-Wan's knees gave way, and he sank down next to the fallen Master.

His fury evaporated, leaving a gaping abyss in his heart. Tears welled up in his eyes as a chilling realization dawned in his mind. His Master had just died - the second time. And he, Obi-Wan, was the one who killed him.

He stood up abruptly. White fingers clutched the lightsaber's grip absently. 

He had just killed. Killed Qui-Gon. Killed. Qui-Gon. Dead - again. 

Obi-Wan looked down at his hands as if seeing them for the first time.

These very hands killed Qui-Gon.

There was utter finality in this thought. Finality that tore open the barely healed wound of Qui-Gon's first death.

~I had one more chance. Something barely anyone ever has. And I threw it away. Just like that.~

Everything seemed colourless, veiled by thin mist of unreality yet so very sharp, cutting in intensity. 

"I - killed - him."

One finger found the activation button on lightsaber's hilt, and deadly blade sprang forth, humming angrily. Slowly, as though in a trance, he brought it up. Then his hand moved to plunge it into his chest.

Darkness accepted him into velvety embrace.

*********** ***********


	27. Chapter 27

"How can we be sure Kenobi is truly dead?" Adi Gallia inquired stubbornly, her cerulean eyes boring into Master Windu's dark-skinned face. "How can we know that it is not simply a child's fear manifesting itself in such an extreme form?"

Windu folded his hands over his chest as though trying to shield from the intense gaze of the Master in front of him. His face, however, remained placid.

"Yoda said he felt it too," he argued none too softly. "Or would you say it was his imagination playing with him?"

Grimacing, Adi turned away from that mocking look and surveyed the waiting room of the Healers' Ward for the fifteenth time in a row. The room was designed to sooth anxious minds – yellow walls, pictures of tranquil waters and sun-washed forests hung out all around. Yet she could find no calmness inside herself. Matters were slowly getting out of hand, and she was keenly aware of it.

It had all started with the appearance of that Sith, with Qui-Gon bringing in the boy from Tatooine he believed to be the Chosen One. And Chosen One he might be – only chosen for what?

Lately Adi had been haunted by a sickly feeling of being led along whatever path had been selected for her, not of her own picking. And she was chained to it, could not stray from it. Helpless. At the mercy of whatever forces were at work. It was infuriating to say the least.

A brief sound from Mace drew her attention to him. He indicated at the hall behind the tall glass doors. "Look who's coming."

Involuntarily Adi's brows shot up at the sight. Manot Rai'ki was the last person either of the Council members expected to see down at the Healers'. The Lamatii Master was renowned for her ability to heal very fast on her own – as well as her strong dislike for healers in general and Temple's healers in particular. Rumors were there had been an accident involving the Healers' Ward when she had been very young and it affected her for the rest of her life. So unless she was injured gravely there was little possibility to see Master Rai'ki anywhere near a medical facility. She was known to arrive to the Healers' Ward only stretched out on a grav-sled, unconscious. 

"What a surprise, Master Rai'ki!" Mace greeted her as she passed the glass doors. He had allowed his voice to carry his surprise along with irony.

Manot flung her coal-black thick braid from one shoulder to another and shot Mace a glance that clearly showed she wasn't pleased with him. Her pale yellow eyes flashed in irritation. She sketched a small bow on the verge of politeness and sarcasm. 

Adi inclined her head respectfully, greeting her. In her heart the councilor admired this woman. Though rather old in human criteria Manot was energetic and full of vivacity, despite the best efforts of four Padawans she had led through their apprenticeships to knighthood during her ninety-two years of life. Her species more often than not easily reached two hundred years' age, which implied there would be even more Padawans following her guidance. Small, barely reaching Windu's shoulder, Rai'ki possessed a powerful and commanding presence that made even a Council member feel uncomfortable. 

With a tinge of gloating satisfaction Adi noted the look of superiority diminish in Mace's eyes. Instead his umber orbs grew darker. He definitely didn't like to be treated the way he treated others, Adi thought with mental snort. 

"May I ask what brings you here, Master Manot?" Adi asked.

Unnervingly pale lemon-coloured eyes turned to regard Master Gallia. "Yoda and his weird ideas," Rai'ki replied. "He suddenly decided I should come take a look at the boy… umm… Skywalker."

"Yoda wants you to be his new Master?" Mace was incredulous.

"_New_ Master? And what happened to the old one?"

"He is believed to be dead," Adi explained carefully. 

Puce chinks of pupils fixed on Adi. "How long?"

"One day. He's been missing for two now."

"And you have no proof of his death?" Manot half-stated. One of her fine brows shot up, and the black tattooed circle above it jumped, emphasizing the emotion.

"Both Yoda and Anakin sensed him dying."

Rai'ki sighed. "It's going to be hard…"

"There's one more thing," Mace put forth. "The boy is considered to be the Chosen One."

"You mean this is that same boy Jinn dragged in last year? Poor boy has no luck with his teachers… But, enough of this jabber, where is he?"

Mace led her to the adjoining room and showed Manot the area behind another set of glass doors. There was sitting a Mon Calamari healer and a tiny boy next to her. The boy was saying something, the healer listened to him with an expression of thoroughly subdued grief on her face. 

"Healer Eerin was Kenobi's friend," Mace clarified.

Adi inwardly cringed at his use of the past term – it still felt wrong to refer to Obi-Wan as someone passed into history.

A skeptical look appeared on Manot's face as she studied Anakin. "How old is this boy? Isn't he too young to be a Padawan yet?"

"He's ten."

"Are you joking?! He doesn't look more than seven."

"Nevertheless, he is ten."

"Oh, joy… And what's wrong with his articulation? Why is he having trouble enunciating words?" She had apparently noted the extra carefulness with which Anakin pronounced every word.

"He is from Tatooine, a former slave. Slaves are not supposed to visit schools," Adi paused, evaluating the other woman's reaction. "Maybe we should better make him an initiate? You don't seem to be eager to teach him…"

"Are you out of your senses?! To make the boy an initiate after he's been a Padawan? They'll badger him."

Resolutely Rai'ki pushed the door open. Both the Mon Calamarian woman and the boy turned their heads at the intrusion. Anakin's face was lined with glistening tears. He wasn't openly crying, doing his best not to show weakness yet could not hold back the tears that silently rolled down his cheeks. Manot stopped at the threshold. Anakin's piercing blue red-rimmed eyes stared at her through the haze of tears. Abruptly, without warning he leapt onto his feet and darted toward Manot with a muffled cry. He hugged the dumbfounded Master, and a few moments later she too hugged his miniature frail shoulders that were shuddering from restrained sobbing.

"Shh, it'll be alright," she said softly.

Anakin lifted his eyes.

"You…" Blush flooded his face. He drew back. "You're not… sorry… I… I thought…"

"You thought what?" Manot's voice held so much of tender concern that Adi could only marvel at the sudden transformation.

"That you… Well, that you are my Mom." He lowered his head in shame.

Gingerly, as though afraid to scare him off, she stroked his hair.

"No, Little One, I'm not your Mom. But I will be your new teacher."

He turned his head upward again and looked her straight in the eye.

"You… Instead…"

"Do you accept?" she asked before he was forced to utter the terrifying word.

Anakin nodded and buried his face in her tunic.

********** **********

"Great performance that was! One of your best!" With these sarcastic words Nais greeted Palpatine who practically stumbled into the shadow-crossed surveillance room. Glowing plates of vid-screens basked him in diabolical radiance. Hushed lights couldn't disperse the gloom that seemed appropriate.

Nais hadn't left the room ever since their last talk. She was leaning back in her chair, appearing casual, but her muscles were tense under flowing silky dress. A part of her shuddered in disgust while the other part marvelled at the Dark Lord's acting skill. The scene she had witnessed via the large screen only minutes ago had opened up a deep chasm of indignation doubled with fear inside her. The helplessness she felt cut her even deeper than usual as she now watched Sidious. 

He glared at her, but the look in his discoloured blue eyes held not so much of anger and malice as it had tired irritation flavoured with oily satisfaction. Her sable orbs stared back at him with mocking challenge, although her innards were twisted in an icy frightened knot. Wiping his wrinkled forehead Palpatine all but fell into a nearby chair.

"Poor guy, he actually bought it," continued Nais her acrid speech.

"As he was supposed to." His voice was measured. Nais exploded.

"Of course! First he gets banged over his head! Then you intrude talking your anti-Jedi propaganda, and then you unleash _that_ on him! He's fortunate not to have gone nuts already!" she leaned forward in agitation.

"You should give him a little credit," Sidious replied steadily, and Nais detected something unbelievably akin to fatherly pride in his tone. Startled, she lost her uplift. No, that couldn't be, she had to be delusional.

"And still it almost killed him. Aren't you too hard on your own son?"

Any other time Palpatine would have snapped at her to mind her own business or smiled that cold venomous smile which sent shivers of dread down her spine. But today was the day of great inconsistencies. He only shook his head lazily, stretching in his chair, and rubbed his forehead as if to drive away bone-deep fatigue.

Silence lingered.

"Perhaps it was a bit extreme," he finally admitted without any inflection of guilt in his voice. "But eventually it turned out even better than I planned."

Planned! Planned such a thing!

Suddenly sickened by him, Nais vigorously pushed her chair to the far wall – as far away from him as possible. But her disgust with herself for watching and doing nothing was no less strong, and there was no way she could escape her own self.

A tiny droid rolled into the room and started to relate something to Palpatine. Nais did not listen to the low soft humming of the droid's narrative. Palpatine, on contrary, was all business. Revolting.

Feeling sick, she shut her eyes tight. Immediately the recently beheld scene started to play out before her mind's eye. 

_The extensive vid-screen provided an excellent view of a round room with black walls. The room with two doors and no windows. Regularly placed glowrods provided illumination. One door was easily visible – colour of ash against dull blackness – the other was undistinguishable from the walls around it. _

_Nais knew that room and never liked it, could not stand it even. Every time she had been there she had a gnarling feeling of illogical conviction that something horrible ought to happen inside its walls. It reminded her of coffins. And no matter how many times had she tried to get rid of this absurd prejudice, she had never been comfortable around this room. _

_The otherwise empty area held a low round table with a metal cylinder on top of it and a living creature – Sidious' so-called surprise. Nais had no doubt Palpatine watched the same scene as she did. He was hidden behind that masked door, prepared to play his part._

_Nais observed._

_The ashy-coloured door slid open, revealing dingy walls of the corridor behind it and a young man on the threshold. He was pale, hair dishevelled. But even on the slightly distorted image of the vid-screen Nais saw hope in his eyes. She swallowed around a sudden lump in her throat. The Jedi looked inside cautiously, then entered. Nais' heart painfully contracted. The act was about to begin. She was powerless to stop it. She could only look on._

_"Who are you?" the Jedi asked the creature standing before him with his back to the young man._

_The creature turned._

_Nais wanted to yell at Kenobi not to believe what he was seeing. She wanted to make him not listen to what would be said – and could not do anything. Gripping the arms of her chair she watched the dumbstruck expression appear on the knight's confused face. _

_The conversation followed. Heavy premonition rose from the bottom of her very being. Something dark was about to happen…_

_Cold emerald light of activated lightsaber danced on two stark faces._

_"Run!" Nais whispered to the Jedi vainly. "Run!" she cried._

_He didn't move. He couldn't hear._

_The battle broke out. Nais watched the fight numbly. She knew what was to come. The creature would die. _

_And die it did._

_Kenobi turned deathly pale. He sank to the floor, eyes never leaving the corpse before him, then abruptly stood up. _

_"I – killed – him." His voice was ghostly, haunted._

_Nais' eyes widened as the young Jedi ignited his lightsaber. Her darkest premonitions confirmed, she saw him aim at his own chest._

_"Poor man…" a whisper rolled from her insensitive lips unknowingly._

_"Don't!!!" The cry was almost inhuman in its intensity. The echoes of it reverberated in the black room._

_The Jedi tumbled to the floor as if knocked down by a hurricane. Sizzling, his blade turned off. _

_Out of the hidden door Sidious came rushing to his son. A terrifying expression twisted his features. Was he afraid?.._

"Ah, it seems Kamino is really a very fortunate discovery." 

Palpatine's voice jerked Nais out of her memories. Inhaling sharply, she opened her eyes, still shaken. The droid was gone. Sidious was pleased. Steepling his fingers, elbows rested on the arms of his chair, he talked.

"Kaminoans did well. They even surpassed my expectations. A good clone. And on such a short notice. I am impressed."

Nais snorted. "It's only a doll."

"Not quite, my dear, not quite. It had some wonderful and useful qualities: it was an exact replica of late Master Jinn and it had enough brain for me to control it. Pity we'll need to have it obliterated. It looks… interesting with that hole my boy burned through it."

~Yeah, right, very interesting…~ Nais thought grimly. ~You dream of seeing similar holes in every Jedi, not to mention part of the senators – the larger part.~

*********** **********

That night Sidious took the captive Jedi – who was still unconscious – off-planet and out of the system to a hidden base.

First rays of waking sun tickled Obi-Wan's skin and brushed a soft kiss over his eyelids. Lilac dawn greeted the young man as he opened his eyes for the first time in three days. He was lying in a heap of creamy-coloured covers on an enormous bed large enough for half a dozen people to have a good rest on. His perceptions tinged with sleep, not fully awake yet, he looked around lazily, not recognizing anything. The unfamiliar place didn't, however, trigger an alarm. 

The pentagonal room was richly decorated with dark wooden panels and thick fluffy carpets. An elegant nightstand next to the bed impudently showed mahogany and cinnamon incrustation. A paned open window brought in bittersweet spicy scents of flowers and recently mowed grass.

Obi-Wan's gaze turned outside to the mountains on the horizon – their snow-covered caps were flushed from rising sun. Air was crystal-clear, untainted. Birds dotted sapphire vault of the sky. 

With a faint screech an old-fashioned door opened, admitting someone into the room. Obi-Wan didn't turn and made no move to acknowledge the incomer. Enchanted, he stared out.

"Good morning." The voice was cultured, familiar. 

Obi-Wan didn't stir. He knew something ugly had happened recently, something that turned his life upside down. But right now memories were blurry, irrelevant. He was in bliss, oblivious, and strived to remain so.

"How do you feel?" The man hadn't left despite Obi-Wan's inattentiveness.

Finally the young man tore himself from the mesmerizing sight and looked at his visitor. Surprise quickly coloured his eyes.

"Chancellor Palpatine?"

Palpatine smiled. 

Like a bolt of lightning memories came rushing back, and Obi-Wan froze under their onslaught. White as a sheet he stared at the creature of pure darkness before him. 

"Get out!" Obi-Wan growled hollowly.

Sidious didn't move.

"Get out of here, NOW!" Most would have deemed safer to leave being told so in such a voice. Sidious was the different case, though.

"Not before you hear what I have to say."

Obi-Wan turned from him, clutching covers, a mixture of avalanche emotions threatening to overflow. He gritted his teeth.

"You took Qui-Gon from me – twice."

"That I did. And some more. Perhaps you haven't noticed yet, but I had to cut off your mental bonds…"

"What?!" Obi-Wan was looking at the Sith Lord again. "You did what?!!"

"Cut them off." Sidious imitated cutting scissors.

"You couldn't!" Obi-Wan breathed. Closing his eyes, he reached into the depth of his mind seeking the soothing links he had had ever since his early childhood, the links he considered the integral part of his very identity. What he found instead was painful desolate hollowness. All bonds were gone, lifeless. Something in his soul cracked and withered and faded into nothingness, leaving bleak apathy in its wake.

When he opened his eyes again they were dull, lacking their usual lively sparkle.

"You're a monster," he intoned.

"I'm sure of it, my son. In any case, from now on I will be the only one bonded to you. I need to keep an eye on you, after all. Consider yourself officially becoming my son."

"You do realize that there can be no… sympathy between us after what you've done?" Obi-Wan asked, staring at Sidious wearily. Hearing the admission made by the Sith was too much. There was no strength to fight any more, no purpose.

"Of course I'm fully aware of this regrettable fact. But you underestimate the power of certain feelings. After this you will, no doubt, hate me. And hate can bind people to each other no worse than love does." Sidious stood up. "Now I suppose you need some time to think everything over. I, in turn, have some things to tend to. You will stay here until I decide you are ready to leave. And, son, don't try to commit suicide again, or I'll be forced to appoint a guard to look after you."

He walked to the door and opened it. The young man's eyes stayed fixed on some invisible spot before him. 

"Nothing would be the same again. There's no return to the old life," Obi-Wan murmured resignedly, barely audible. 

But Sidious heard. He wrinkled his face in open disgust. "What a hackneyed dictum! There is no return for anyone – ever. Thinking otherwise is fooling yourself. And my son should not be that weak as to console himself with some envisioned 'return'. Once something is in the past it can never be the same again. All the changes are permanent. You can shift into a new position but you can never go back to the old one. The past is in the past. We may see it or ignore it, we may learn from it or bury it in oblivion – but we have no power to change it."

Having that said, he walked out and shut the door behind himself.

In the room the young man turned his back to the door and curled up in a fetal position.

This is how Obi-Wan Kenobi died and Avayn Palpatine came into existence. 

**End of part I. **


End file.
